UC-NRLF 


B    3    1MM    357 


THE 

GENTLEMAN 
RANKER 

AND  OTHER  PLAYS 


By  LEON  GORDON 


THE    FOUR    SEAS    COMPANY 


THE  GENTLEMAN  RANKER 


THE 
GENTLEMAN  RANKER 

AND  OTHER  PLAYS 


BY 

LEON  GORDON 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 
1919 


Copyright,  1919,  by 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 


THE  FOUR  SEAS   PRESS 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.   S.  A. 


TO 

MY  MOTHER 

AND 

THC  MEMORY  OF 
MY  FATHER 


401067 


CONTENTS 

THE  GENTLEMAN  RANKER  .        .        .        .11 

As  A  PAL 77 

LEAVE  THE  WOMAN  OUT  .        .        .         109 


THE  GENTLEMAN  RANKER 

ORIGINALLY  SUGGESTED  BY  MARY  STAFFORD-SMITH  FROM 
RUDYARD  KIPLING'S  "BARRACK  ROOM   BALLADS" 

We're  poor  little  lambs  who've  lost  our  way, 

Baa!  baa!  baa! 
We're  little  black  sheep  who've  gone  astray, 

Baa — aa — aa! 

Gentlemen-rankers  out  on  the  spree 
Damned  from  here  to  eternity, 
God  ha'  mercy  on  such  as  we, 

Baa!  Yah!  Bah! 

KIPLING 


[ORIGINAL  CAST] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN  Mr.  A.  C.  Lilly 

PRIVATE  SMITH  Mr.  Charles  King 

SIR  CHARLES  AMES  Mr.  George  Butler 

CAPTAIN  CRANE  Mr.  James  E.  Green 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD  Mr.  Leon  Gordon 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT  Mr.  Franklyn  Wood 

MAJOR  Mr.  Harry  Evans 

DOT  Mr.  Charles  Douglas 

SOAPY  Mr.  Geo.  Tapping 

VIOLET  LEE  Miss  Fife  Alexandra 
OFFICERS,  NURSES,  MEN,  BAND,  ETC. 


THE  GENTLEMAN  RANKER 


SCENE  I 

A  corrugated  iron  barn  in  Kroonsdorp  on  the  border 
of  German  South  West  Africa.  There  is  a  window 
at  the  back,  which  shows  a  typical  African  Market 
Square,  and  in  the  distance  an  old  Dutch  farm, 
partly  in  ruins  from  artillery  fire.  The  barn  itself 
is  in  fairly  good  preservation,  except  for  a  ragged 
shell  hole  on  the  left  side  near  the  roof — about  five 
feet  by  two.  Its  sole  furniture  consists  of  two 
wooden  benches,  a  rough  wooden  table,  and  two  or 
three  wooden  chairs.  There  is  a  door  right  and  a 
door  left. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  MAJOR  HASELDENE,  of  the 
transportation  staff,  is  discovered  seated  at  the  table, 
on  which  are  scattered  numerous  military  docu 
ments.  Standing  left  of  him  is  CAPTAIN  CRANE — 
orderly  officer  for  the  day,  and  looking  out  of  the 
window,  with  his  back  to  the  audience  is  2ND  LIEU 
TENANT  BRETT.  A  bugle  is  heard  in  the  distance, 
followed  by  the  boom  of  a  big  gun.  Then  for  a 
moment  there  is  silence,  broken  only  by  the  scratch 
ing  of  the  MAJOR'S  pen.  Presently  he  looks  up  and 
addresses  the  CAPTAIN. 

[ii] 


MAJOR 

Well,  I  think  that's  the  best  we  can  do.  The  officers 
will  billet  in  the  Power  House.  You  can  get  four 
hundred  men  in  the  Post  Office,  and  about  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  in  the  farms.  You  must  do  the  best 
you  can  with  the  other  fifty.  We'll  shift  out  of  here 
at  once,  and  you  can  billet  twenty  or  thirty  here.  See 
there  is  plenty  of  clean  straw.  [He  leans  back  in  his 
chair.]  Well,  that's  that! 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 

I  hope  they  don't  send  any  fresh  troops  until  we  can 
get  some  of  these  on  the  move.  Things  are  getting 
a  bit  congested,  Major. 

MAJOR 

Yes,  for  the  moment — but  as  soon  as  the  advance 
guard  get  in  touch  with  the  enemy,  it'll  be  the  old 
story — the  same  as  it  was  in  1900.  The  wires  will 
start  humming,  "Send  every  man  you've  got,  at  the 
double — and  be  quick  about  it."  And  off  we'll  pack 
them  like  a  lot  of  sardines,  till  there  isn't  a  man  left 
in  the  dorp.  And  then,  before  we  know  where  we  are, 
the  order  will  come,  "Send  up  the  Reserves."  And 
we  won't  have  a  man  to  send  them.  And  we'll  remain 
here  and  twiddle  our  thumbs,  and  wait  and  wait,  and 
every  hour  the  order  from  the  line  will  come,  "Send 
the  Reserves — Where  the  Demi  are  the  Reserves?" 
And  in  turn  we  shall  curse  the  Transportation  Depart 
ment,  who  will  politely  reply,  that  as  soon  as  fresh 
troops  disembark  they,  will  be  despatched  without 
delay.  And  all  the  time  the  plea  will  come:  "For 

[12] 


Heaven's  sake,  send  the  Reserves" — until  that  one 
word  "Reserves"  burns  itself  into  one's  very  soul — 
until  we  mutter  it  in  our  sleep,  until  we  are  afraid  to 
face  another  day  and  hear  that  repeated  wounded  cry, 
"Send  the  Reserves — for  God's  sake  send  the  Re 
serves."  [He  stops  suddenly,  and  becomes  self-con 
scious  and  embarrassed  at  having  spoken  his  inmost 
thoughts.]  I  beg  your  pardon — I — I've  no  right  to  be 
so  pessimistic,  but  I  went  through  it  in  the  last  cam 
paign  out  here,  and  it's  haunted  me  ever  since.  To  me, 
there  is  nothing  more  pitiful  than  a  hard-pressed  chief 
calling  for  his  reserves — when  they  can't  be  sent. 
[He  finishes  quietly.]  It's  like  watching  a  strong  man 
starve  to  death. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

[Cheerfully] 
Perhaps  things  will  be  better  this  time,  sir. 

MAJOR 

I  wish  I  could  think  so,  Brett,  but  you  may  be  sure 
the  War  Office  has  got  both  hands  full  with  this 
colossal  undertaking  on  the  French  Front.  This  is 
only  a  little  picnic  compared  to  that.  Of  course  they'll 
do  their  best,  but  they  can't  do  impossibilities,  and 
when  you  remember  that  every  man,  and  most  of  the 
equipment  has  to  travel  over  four  thousand  miles — I 
wonder  we  get  anything  at  all.  Anyway  it  takes  time. 
[To  CAPTAIN.]  What  do  you  think  of  the  new  bunch, 
Crane  ? 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 
Pretty  good  I  should  think,  but  raw  stuff. 

[13] 


LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
And  we're  deuced  short  of  non-coms. 

MAJOR 

That's  also  part  of  the  old  story.  [To  CAPTAIN.]  Did 
you  notice  any  men  likely  for  promotion? 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 

I've  made  a  list  of  a  few.  [He  pulls  out  his  notebook 
and  reads  names.]  "Sergeant  West — he's  an  old 
campaigner — at  a  pinch  we  might  jump  him  to  a 
lieutenant.  He's  quite  capable  of  looking  after  a 
platoon.  Then  there  are  a  couple  of  Corporals — White 
and  Sorners — pretty  smart  boys  should  make  good 
sergeants.  Then  there's  Private  Smith. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
Yes— there's  Private  Smith. 

MAJOR 
There  are  about  thirty  Private  Smiths,  aren't  there? 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

Yes,  sir — but  they've  all  had  Smith  thrust  upon  them. 
There's  only  one  man  with  sufficient  disregard  for  the 
original  to  adopt  it  out  of  sheer  regard  for  its 
euphemism.  In  other  words,  "Smith  by  any  other 
name  would  smell  as  sweet." 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 
I  think  you've  hit  it,  Brett. 

MAJOR 

I  wish  you  two  fellows  would  be  good  enough  to  let 
me  into  your  secret  society. 


CAPTAIN  CRANE 
Well,  there's  a  chap  here  called  Smith. 

MAJOR 
Yes — I've  gathered  that  much. 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 

He  joined  about  three  months  ago  and  was  trans 
ferred  as  a  raw  recruit  to  the  2nd  battalion  just  before 
we  sailed.  The  first  day  he  came  on  parade  he  seemed 
to  know  such  a  darned  lot  about  it,  and  looked  at  Brett 
in  such  a  queer  way  when  he  fumbled  his  return  at  the 
rifle  inspection,  that  Brett  got  bally  self-conscious,  and 
before  he'd  finished  he'd  tangled  his  platoon  in  a  devil 
of  a  mess,  and  he  couldn't  get  'em  straight  again. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

And  my  sergeant  was  about  as  green  as  I  was.  I 
shouted  every  order  at  'em  I  knew,  and  the  more  I 
shouted,  the  more  they  tied  themselves  into  knots,  and 
all  the  time  this  chap  Smith  looked  at  me  in  such  a  way 
that  I  felt  I  wanted  to  run  away  and  leave  'em  to  it. 
As  I  passed  him  he  said  to  me  quietly,  "May  I  suggest, 
sir — 'Single  file,  and  half  sections  right;'"  and  some 
how  I  couldn't  resent  it,  for  I  realized  he  was  one  of  us. 

MAJOR 
One  of  you — or — one  of  us.    [He  winks  at  CAPTAIN-] 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
[Continuing  cheerfully] 

I  mean,  sir,  that  he's  held  a  commission  at  some  time. 
He's  no  more  Private  Smith  than  I'm  Lord  Roberts. 

[15] 


MAJOR 

Do  I  gather  from  all  this,  that  you  chaps  mean  that 
Smith  is  a  likely  sort  of  man  to  be  recommended  for 
a  commission? 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

I  do,  anyway,  sir;  and  I  was  talking  to  Blackstone 
about  him  last  night.  You  know  he's  been  through 
Sandhurst  and  he  says  he's  sure  he  met  Smith  there, 
and  that  he  was  gazetted  soon  after  Blackstone  went  up. 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 

There's  no  doubt  of  his  having  been  an  officer — but 
I  guess  there's  something  fishy  about  it,  and  personally 
I  shouldn't  like  to  recommend  him  just  because  of 
that,  and  because  he's  a  gentleman. 

MAJOR 

I'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  him  anyway.  Brett,  tell  my 
orderly  to  bring  him  over  here,  will  you?  [BRETT 
salutes  and  goes  out.]  How  are  the  machine  gunners 
going? 

CAPTAIN  CRANE 
Pretty  good,  sir.     [Enter  LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE.] 

LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE 

Captain  Morrison,  Company  B,  reports  two  more 
cases  of  typhoid,  sir. 

MAJOR 
That's  bad.    See  that  they  are  isolated  at  once. 

LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE 

I've  done  that,  sir — I  sent  them  over  to  the  emergency. 
[He  salutes  and  is  about  to  go  out  when  the  MAJOR 
stops  him.] 

[16] 


MAJOR 

Oh,  by  the  way,  Blackstone,  Brett  tells  me  there's  a 
ranker  here  called  Smith.  He  says  that  you  met  him 
at  Sandhurst.  Well,  you  know  we're  very  short  of 
officers,  and  we  are  trying  to  weed  out  any  likely  men. 
What  do  you  know  about  Smith? 

LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE 

I  don't  know  anything  of  "Smith,"  sir,  but  I  knew 
a  chap  called  Graylen  who  might  have  been  Smith's 
twin  brother.  He  was  gazetted  to  the  guards  six 
months  after  I  went  up.  Didn't  know  much  of  him 
personally — except  that  he  was  one  of  the  Gray  lens 
of  Herefordshire. 

MAJOR 
Was  there  a  scandal? 

LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE 

[Hesitates  a  moment] 
I  really  couldn't  say,  sir.     [Enter  BRETT.] 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
Private  Smith's  outside,  sir — shall  he  come  in  here? 

MAJOR 
If  you  please. 

LIEUTENANT  BLACKSTONE 

Will  you  excuse  me,  sir?  If  the  poor  devil  wants  to 
forget  he's  been  a  gentleman  I've  no  wish  to  stay  here 
and  remind  him  of  it.  [Salutes  and  goes  out.  There's 
a  knock  at  the  door.] 

[17] 


MAJOR 

Come  in.  [SERGEANT  enters  and  salutes  smartly,  fol 
lowed  by  PRIVATE  SMITH  who  also  salutes.]  No — it's 
not  a  reprimand,  Sergeant.  I  won't  require  you. 

SERGEANT 
Very  good,  sir.     [Exit-] 

MAJOR 

[To  PRIVATE  SMITH] 
Your  name  is —     [He  hesitates.} 

SMITH 
Smith,  sir. 

MAJOR 

Oh  yes, — I  remember.  Well,  I'll  come  to  the  point  at 
once.  We  are  short  of  N.  C.  O.'s,  and  officers.  It 
may  be  necessary  to  make  some  field  promotions  and 
I  have  instructions  to  look  out  for  likely  material. 
Lieutenant  Brett  has  recommended  you  as  being  a 
capable  man.  I  want  you  to  answer  some  questions. 
[He  stops,  looks  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  adds 
quietly,  as  if  speaking  to  an  equal.]  You  can  answer 
them  as  you  see  fit.  I  have  no  desire  to  be  personal. 

SMITH 
Thank  you,  sir. 

MAJOR 

First — Have  you  at  any  time  before  served  in  His 
Majesty's  forces. 

SMITH 

Am  I  compelled  to  answer  that,  sir? 

[18] 


MAJOR 
I  think  you'd  better. 

SMITH 

[Hesitating  a  second] 
No,  sir.     [BRETT  looks  as  if  he  is  about  to  explode.] 

MAJOR 
Is  your  real  name  Smith? 

SMITH 
Yes,  sir. 

MAJOR 

I  don't  think  I'm  making  my  point  quite  clear.  It 
has  been  suggested  to  me  that  you  went  through  Sand 
hurst,  and  have  held  a  commission.  If  this  is  so,  I 
want  no  details  why  you  are  in  the  ranks.  What  I 
want  to  know  is — Do  you,  Private  Smith,  on  your  word 
of  honour,  consider  yourself  free  and  eligible  to  ac 
cept  a  commission  in  His  Majesty's  army — should 
opportunity  arise? 

SMITH 

I  thank  you,  sir,  for  the  interest  you  and  Lieutenant 
Brett  have  taken  in  me,  but  for  reasons  which  I  would 
rather  not  explain,  I  do  not  consider  myself  fit  for 
the  trust  you  suggest  placing  in  me;  nor  could  I 
under  any  circumstances  avail  myself  of  it.  But 
again,  sir,  I  thank  you. 

MAJOR 

You  may  go— Private  Smith.  [SMITH  salutes  and 
goes  out.] 

[19] 


LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
Well,  I'm  damned! 

MAJOR 
[Gathering  up  his  papers  and  putting  them  into  a 

despatch  case] 

Well — that's  the  end  of  the  Smith  episode,  and  I  fancy 
the  details  would  be  very  unpleasant.  [To  CAPTAIN.] 
Scratch  him  off  your  list.  And  now  we'll  go  over 
to  the  Power  House,  and  take  up  our  new  quarters. 
[There  is  a  tramp  of  feet  outside  and  a  sharp  com 
mand:  "Halt!"  BRETT  goes  to  the  window.] 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
It's  the  bunch  to  take  up  this  billet,  sir. 

MAJOR 

[Moving  towards  the  door] 

All  right — see  everything's  ship-shape,  Brett,  and  have 
this  [indicating  his  despatch  case]  sent  over  to  me. 
[Exit  MAJOR,  followed  by  the  CAPTAIN.  SERGEANT 
knocks  at  the  door  and  enters.] 

SERGEANT 
Orders  to  billet  eighteen  men  in  here,  sir. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

That's  right,  Sergeant.  We've  cleared  out  all  our 
kit — except  the  Major's  box.  Have  that  sent  over  to 
the  Power  House. 

SERGEANT 
Very  good,  sir. 

[He  salutes  and  exits.  LIEUTENANT  BRETT  also  exits 
and  the  stage  remains  empty  for  a  moment.  Then 

[20] 


a  scuffle  of  feet  and  about  a  dozen  privates  come 
noisily  into  the  room.  In  a  moment,  the  whole 
place  is  thrown  into  confusion, — while  rifles  are 
being  stacked,  and  accoutrements  taken  off.  There 
is  much  good  humoured  chaff  and  shouting.  The 
SERGEANT  takes  the  despatch  case  under  his  arm, 
and  exits.  A  CORPORAL  enters  with  a  letter  bag.  He 
stands  at  the  door  and  calls  out  names:  {t Hudson — 
Williams — Dot — Barton."  The  four  named  men 
rush  over  and  take  their  mail  and  attempt  to  read. 
During  this,  there  is  the  clatter  of  men  starting  a 
game  of  cards,  cleaning  bayonets,  and  general 
commotion.  ] 

DOT 

[Shouting] 

Shut  up !  I'm  trying  to  read  a  letter.  [He  throws  his 
hat  at  a  man  who  persistently  plays  a  mouth  organ  in 
his  ear.  After  a  moment  or  two  things  become  quieter 
and  he  continues  reading  his  letter  to  SOAPY,  who  is 
also  endeavouring  to  read.  ]  "You'll  be  glad  to  'ear  'as 
I've  kep'  me  word  an'  give  'im  the" — now  what  do  you 
make  of  that  word,  Soapy?" 

SOAPY 

Oh,  chuck  it — H'm,  I'm  attending  to  my  own  corres 
pondence. 

DOT 

Yes,  but  it  won't  take  you  a  minute.  'Ere  you  are — the 
fourth  line  down :  "You'll  be  glad  to  'ear  as  I've  kep' 
me  word  an'  give  'im  the" — now  what's  the  blooming 

[21] 


word.  Looks  like  "squab,"  but  it  ain't — wouldn't  be 
any  sense,  "give  'im  the  squab." 

SOAPY 
Ask  the  tuppenny  toff — he'll  tell  you. 

DOT 
No  blooming  fear,  I  don't  want  no  Gawd-forsaken 

dukes  mauling  my  girl's  letters  about. 

SOAPY 
He's  all  right  if  you  rub  him  the  right  way. 

DOT 
I  would  like  to  rub  'im  in  an  ant  hill. 

SOAPY 

He  ain't  a  bad  sort  if  you  give  him  a  chance.  It  ain't 
his  fault  if  he  has  been  a  gentleman. 

DOT 

I  suppose  it  ain't  his  fault  he  ain't  continued  to  be  one. 
What's  he  want  here  at  all  ?  No  good,  mooching  about 
all  day  looking  as  if  he  had  lost  his  knitting.  Look 
'ere,  when  we  do  get  into  action  I  hopes  they  put  'im 
and  all  the  other  gentlemen  rankers  over  the  top  first. 
They  would  make  a  nice  soft  bed  for  us  chaps  to  flop 
on.  [Turns  to  men.]  Who's  got  a  button  stick? 
[Nobody  takes  the  slightest  notice.]  Now  don't  all 
speak  at  once.  [He  finds  button  stick  and  begins 
cleaning  buttons,  singing,  "It's  the  wrong  way  to  tickle 
Mary."] 

[22] 


SOAPY 

[Who  has  been  looking  about] 

'Ere — where's  my  socks?  They  were  on  that  bench 
a  moment  ago.  You  got  them,  Dot? 

DOT 
Got  what  ? 

SOAPY 

My  socks. 

DOT 

No — don't  wear  'em. 

SOAPY 

Well,  somebody  swiped  'em  up.  I  believe  you  'ave 
got  'em.  Go  on,  open  your  shirt.  [The  two  men 
start  a  good  natured  rough  and  tumble.  The  others 
are  laughing  and  urging  them  on.  During  this 
PRIVATE  SMITH  has  entered  and  sees  that  DOT  and 
SOAPY  are  beginning  to  lose  their  tempers-  He  goes 
over  to  him.} 

SMITH 

Why  not  take  it  easy,  you  will  get  all  the  scrapping 
you  want  later  on. 

DOT 

[Getting  up] 

'Course  you  must  stick  your  nose  into  it.  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  have  a  go.  A  couple  of  rounds  would  do 
you  a  bit  of  good,  knock  some  of  the  starch  out  of 
your  thin  skin.  [There's  a  general  laugh  from  the 
men.] 

[23] 


SMITH 

[Hesitating  for  a  moment  and  then  quietly] 
That's  where  you  make  a  mistake,  my  friend.     I  am 
not  thin-skinned.     [He  goes  over  to  the  table  and  be 
gins  to  write.     DOT  follows  him.] 

DOT 

Not  thin-skinned,  ain't  yer?  Well,  what's  the  matter 
with  you  then?  Say,  boys,  the  "tuppenny  toff"  would 
like  to  go  'ome.  Frightened  he'll  get  hurt  out  'ere. 
[SMITH  is  slowly  losing  his  temper.  DOT  picks  some 
thing  up  from  the  floor.]  Here,  Soapy,  'ere's  yer 
socks. 

SOAPY 
Oh,  where  was  they? 

DOT 

Somebody's  been  cleaning  their  boots  with  them,  I 
should  think.  [Picks  up  his  letter  which  he  has 
dropped  during  the  struggle,  winks  at  SOAPY,  and  goes 
over  to  SMITH,  who  is  writing,  and  continues.]  Here, 
me  Lord  Duke,  what  do  you  make  of  this  'ere  word 
'ere?  Yes,  and  you  don't  need  pass  no  rude  remarks 
about  the  writing. 

SMITH 

[Trying  to  make  out  what  the  word  is] 
It  looks  to  me  like — "shove." 

DOT 

[Snatching  the  letter] 

That's  it— "shove."  [Reading  aloud.]  "You'll  be  glad 
to  'ear  as  I've  kep'  me  word  an'  give  'im  the  shove." 

[24] 


I  thought  it  was  "squab."  [Turning  to  SMITH.]  Now 
look  'ere,  I  don't  want  you  to  make  no  aristocratic 
jokes  about  that  letter.  She  may  not  be  a  swell 
writer,  but  I'm  fond  of  that  girl.  [SMITH  takes  no 
notice.]  Oh,  you  can  laugh.  Of  course  we  ain't  good 
enough  for  you.  Of  course  we  are  only  a  lot  of  bloom 
ing  Tommies,  but  if  you've  got  any  respect  for  your 
personal  beauty  you  will  keep  your  mouth  shut  about 
that  letter,  or  I  may  do  a  bit  of  damage  to  your  figure 
head. 

SMITH 

[His  temper  getting  the  best  of  him] 
I  wish  you  would  leave  me  alone,  I  am  trying  to  write. 

DOT 

Trying  to — well,  don't  you  know  how?  'Ere,  let  me 
guide  your  'and  for  you.  [He  makes  as  if  to  do  so. 
SMITH  jumps  up  and  throws  him  off.] 

SMITH 

Now  look  here,  I  have  stood  this  long  enough.  You 
dislike  me  because  I  am  what  you  are  pleased  to  call 
a  "Gentleman  Ranker."  I  am  not  thin-skinned  and 
I  am  not  stuck  up.  I  have  no  reason  to  be  when  it 
comes  to  that.  I  am  not  as  good  as  the  worst  of  you. 
You  are  only  "Tommies"  you  say.  Yes,  but  you  have 
all  got  some  one  waiting  for  you,  praying  for  you. 
I've  no  one,  not  a  single  soul,  who  would  care  a  jot 
if  I  got  killed  tonight.  Mind  you,  I  am  not  complain 
ing.  It's  my  own  fault.  I've  forfeited  all  right  to  that. 
Why  am  I,  a  gentleman,  here  in  the  ranks,  you  ask? 

[25] 


Why?  Why,  because  they  won't  have  me  anywhere 
else.  Because  it's  the  only  place  where  a  poor  devil 
can  get  back  his  self-respect,  when  he  hasn't  got  the 
pluck  to  put  a  bullet  through  his  head.  I  haven't  the 
pluck,  so  I  am  waiting  for  a  friendly  shot  from  the 
enemy  to  buy  me  out,  and  set  me  free. 

SOAPY 
Yes,  but  I- 

SMITH 

I  don't  want  your  sympathy  and  I  don't  want  your 
chaff.  If  I  can't  get  your  friendship,  I  don't  want 
your  hate.  Just  cut  me  out,  give  me  the  go-bye  as  the 
rest  of  the  world  has  done.  That's  all  I  ask,  that's  all 
I  can  expect.  [He  sits  down  again  at  table.] 

DOT 

[Going  over  to  him] 

Sorry  if  I  'urt  your  feelings,  mate.  We  don't  mean  no 
'arm,  only  our  swank.  'Ere,  'ave  a  bit  of  baccy." 

SMITH 
[Smiling] 
Not  just  now,  thanks. 

DOT 
Well,  come  over  to  the  canteen  and  I'll  stand  you  a  pint. 

SMITH 
[Laughing] 
Righto,  I'll  join  you  later. 

[26] 


DOT 

Right  you  are.  Come  on,  boys.  [All  the  men  get  up 
and  start  following  him  to  door  L.]  'Ere,  where's 
Sloper?  [The  men  push  a  tall  thin  private  forward.] 
Oh,  there  you  are !  It's  your  treat  and  you  don't  slope 
this  time,  if  I  have  to  stand  you  on  your  'ead  and 
shake  the  money  out  of  you. 

SLOPER 
Come  on,  boys.    [  They  all  go  out,  laughing  and  talking.  ] 

SOAPY 

[W ho  is  about  to  follow  the  others,  stops  at  door. 
Takes  a  tin  box  out  of  his  pocket  and  comes  over  to 
SMITH,  who  is  again  writing.]  I've  got  a  cigar  'ere, 
one  that  was  given  me  in  the  old  country.  You  can 
have  it  if  you  like. 

SMITH 
No  really,  thanks,  Soapy. 

SOAPY 

Take  it,  just  to  oblige  me.  [SMITH  does  so.]  I'd  rather 
'ave  a  woodbine  any  day.  [Gives  SMITH  a  match.] 
Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance  of  us  getting  into 
action  soon,  sir? 

SMITH 

Order  may  come  any  minute.  They  will  be  hard 
pressed  as  soon  as  they  establish  a  line. 

SOAPY 

They  tell  me  that  the  old  chief,  what's  in  command 
up  there,  is  a  real  'ard  nut. 


SMITH 
[Casually] 
Oh — what's  his  name? 

SOAPY 

I  don't  rightly  know.  I  did  'ear,  but  I  forgot.  Still 
it  don't  matter  much. 

SMITH 

No,  nothing  matters  much.  Look  here,  Soapy,  you 
have  been  very  decent  to  me  and  I  am  going  to  ask 
you  if  you'll  do  me  a  favor.  When  we  get  into  action, 
if  I  don't  come  through,  will  you  drop  a  line  to  the 
lady  whose  name  and  address  are  written  here?  [He 
hands  SOAPY  a  sealed  envelope.]  Just  say  that  D.  G. 
has  gone  under.  She'll  know  who  you  mean. 

SOAPY 
She'll  be  sorry  to  hear  it,  no  doubt,  sir. 

SMITH 

I  don't  think  so.  It  might  interest  her,  that's  all. 
Give  her  a  topic  of  conversation  to  entertain  her 
friends  with.  It  would  be  quite  a  tit-bit  for  a  certain 
Club  I  could  name.  "Dear  me,"  they'd  say,  "and  so  he's 
dead.  Perhaps  it's  the  best  thing  that  could  have  hap 
pened  to  him.  What  a  fool  he  was.  Couldn't  run 
straight,  you  know,  couldn't  keep  inside  the  rails  with 
all  the  fine  prospects  that  he  had.  Don't  you  remember 
the  affair?  Broke  his  father  up  completely,  and  his 
mother" — [very  quietly]  yes — his  mother.  Well, 
you'll  do  that  for  me,  Soapy,  will  you? 

[28] 


SOAPY 
I  'opes  it  won't  be  necessary,  sir. 

SMITH 

I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  me  "sir."  It  reminds  me  of 
things  I  am  trying  to  forget.  [A  bugle  is  heard  in  the 
distance.  There  is  a  lot  of  shouting  and  general  com 
motion  outside.  DOT  rushes  in,  followed  by  the  men.  ] 

DOT 
It's  come,  it's  come! 

SOAPY 
What  has  come? 

DOT 

Orders  for  the  firing  line !    We  have  got  to  get  out  at 

the  double! 

[During  this,  there  is  a  great  commotion  at  the  back. 
The  men  putting  on  their  belts,  water  bottles,  etc. 
As  each  one  gets  his  kit  together  he  snatches  a  rifle 
from  the  rack  and  goes  out.  DOT  and  SMITH  are 
left  alone  on  the  stage.  DOT  rushes  to  door,  getting 
his  rifle.] 

DOT 

Hurry  up,  sir,  if  you  want  to  be  numbered  in  the 

first  roll  call. 

SMITH 

I  do.    I  want  to  be  numbered  in  the  roll  call  where  a 

man  may  be  judged,  not  by  what  he  has  been,  but  by 

what  he  is.     [He  snatches  his  rifle.    Exit.    The  stage 

and  the  market  square  are  left  empty  for  a  moment. 

In  the  distance  can  be  heard  the  marching  of  feet  and 

[29] 


the  regimental  band.  The  MAJOR  and  LIEUTENANT 
BRETT  walk  across  the  square.  They  hesitate  for  a 
moment  at  the  window.] 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

By  Gad,  sir,  we  got  that  lot  on  the  move  quickly.  What 
do  we  do  when  they  have  gone? 

MAJOR 

Oh,  then  we'll  wait  for  the  Reserves! 

[  They  pass  on.  The  stage  is  again  empty.  In  the  dis 
tance  the  band  can  be  heard  to  strike  up  the  strain 
of  "It's  a  Long  Way  to  Tipperary."  The  Troops 
take  it  up  as  they  swing  into  line,  and  as  they  get 
further  into  the  distance,  above  the  tramping  of  feet, 
faintly  the  words  can  be  heard, — 

It's  a  long  way  to  German  South  West, 

It's  a  long  way  to  go, 

It's  a  long  way  to  German   South  West,   where  the  dust  and 

diamonds  grow, 

Good-bye,   dear  old  Cape  Town,  Farewell,  Leicester  square, 
It's  a  long,  long  way  to  German  South  West, 
But  we'll  get  right  there. 

It  dies  away  in  the  distance  as  the  curtain  slowly  falls.] 


SCENE  II 

A  part  of  the  Veldt,  showing  a  vast  expansion  of  fiat 
country,  with  kopjes  in  the  distance.  A  small 
emergency  tent,  as  protection  from  the  sun,  has  been 
rigged  up  on  the  Left.  At  the  opening  of  the  scene, 
two  nurses  are  seen  helping  a  wounded  soldier 

[30] 


across  the  stage.  They  are  followed  by  two  Red 
Cross  stretcher  bearers  carrying  a  soldier  on  a 
stretcher.  DOT  and  SOAPY  enter  from  Left.  They 
are  in  full  kit  and  carry  their  rifles  slung  over  their 
shoulders.  As  they  pass  the  stretcher,  SOAPY  looks 
at  the  face  of  the  man  lying  in  it.  He  takes  off  his 
helmet.  DOT  looks  and  does  likewise,  and  the 
stretcher  passes  on. 

SOAPY 
Did  you  see  who  that  was? 

DOT 
Who? 

SOAPY 
Sloper. 

DOT 
What?    You  don't  mean  our  old  Sloper. 

SOAPY 

Yes,  I  guess  he  got  it  in  the  neck  doing  his  bit  at  the 
Devil's  Pass.  There  ain't  a  bloke  done  duty  at  that 
pass  what  ain't  come  back  plugged.  [He  looks  at 
DOT'S  face.]  Cut  you  up  a  bit,  ain't  it? 

DOT 
Yus,  things  is  pretty  rotten  all  round,  ain't  they? 

SOAPY 
We'll  be  all  right  when  they  get's  through  to  relieve  us. 

DOT 

Yes,  but  are  they  coming?  It's  only  a  bloomin'  chance. 
I  'card  the  old  man  talking  last  night.  He  was  trying 


to  kid  the  others  as  'ard  as  he  could,  but  I  could  see, 
and  so  could  they,  he  didn't  really  believe  it  'isself. 
We've  been  left  'ere  to  separate  the  German  and  Dutch 
forces.  We're  a  forlorn  hope,  mate,  and  none  of  us'll 
ever  see  the  sea  again,  I'll  bet. 

SOAPY 

Well,  if  it's  good  enough  for  the  officers,  it's  good 
enough  for  me.  Ain't  the  old  man  and  the  others  good 
sports,  working  like  blooming  'orses  and  yet  they're 
as  cheerful  as  crickets. 

DOT 
All  except  the  Tike. 

SOAPY 
Who  is  he? 

DOT 
Lieutenant  Harford. 

SOAPY 

'Arford,  oh,  'im !  I  don't  look  upon  'im  as  an  officer 
at  all.  He  always  reminds  me  of  a  blooming  rabbit 
when  the  guns  start  to  play  a  tune.  But  the  others 
are  toffs.  Lieutenant  'Arford  is  fit  to  batman  for  'em. 

DOT 

Yer  right.  He  ought  to  be  in  Lockharts  with  a  lemon 
in  his  mouth.  [With  a  far-away  smile.]  We'll  all 
be  dead  as  pork  soon. 

SOAPY 

You're  a  cheerful  bloke,  ain't  you?  What's  the  matter 
with  you  today? 

[32] 


DOT 

Well,  I  need  a  smoke,  and  I'm  always  down-'earted 
when  I  need  a  smoke.  [Enter  COLONEL  GRAYLEN, 
accompanied  by  two  orderlies.  DOT  and  SOAPY  salute.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
What  are  you  men  doing  here? 

SOAPY 

[Very  sheepishly] 
Nothing,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Well,  go  back.  Take  all  the  rest  you  can.  You'll  be  in 
action  again  before  day-break.  [He  turns  and  gives 
instructions  to  orderlies.} 

DOT 

[Whispering  to  SOAPY] 
I  shouldn't  like  to  tread  on  his  corns. 

SOAPY 
How  do  yer  know  he's  got  any? 

DOT 

Must  'ave.  All  officers  'as  corns.  Colonels  'as  the 
biggest,  and  when  they  gets  to  Generals  they  'ave 
bunions  with  corns  inside  of  'em.  [Enter  LIEUTENANT 
HARFORD.  He  returns  DOT'S  and  SOAPY'S  salute, 
and  they  go  out.} 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

[To  COLONEL] 

Captain  Wentworth,  Company  B,  wants  to  know  if 
he  shall  detail  men,  or  call  for  volunteers  for  the  pass 
tonight?  He's  having  difficulty  there. 

[33] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Yes,  it's  very  extraordinary.  Some  of  the  men  have 
been  killed  there  in  the  most  mysterious  manner,  and 
it's  always  at  night,  and  yet  the  listening  posts  hear 
nothing,  and  it's  well  within  our  boundary.  I  scarcely 
like  to  say  it,  because  I  know  it's  absurd,  but  it  looks 
like  the  work  of  some-one  inside  our  lines. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
What  makes  you  think  that? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

The  pass,  or  the  Devil's  Pass,  as  the  men  call  it,  is,  as 
you  know,  a  gap  between  the  two  mountains,  and  is 
so  small  that  only  one  man  can  pass  through  it  at  a 
time.  It  is  our  strongest  position.  [He  looks  round  as 
if  afraid  of  being  heard,  and  continues  in  a  low  tense 
voice.]  I  tell  you,  Harford,  things  are  getting  des 
perate. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Yes,  sir,  and  the  difficulty  now  is  to  get  a  man  who'll 
stick  to  his  post. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Oh,  come,  Harford,  it's  not  as  bad  as  that  surely. 

[Enter  VIOLET  LEE.  She  is  a  Red  Cross  nurse.  Looks 
very  tired  and  nervous.  While  she  is  talking  she 
is  continually  rolling  bandages  and  gives  one  the 
impression  that  she  feels  she  must  be  doing  some 
thing.} 

[34] 


VIOLET 

[To  COLONEL] 

Can't  something  be  done  for  the  men?  They  are 
almost  starving. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Now,  dear,  it's  all  right.  We  are  doing  all  we  can, 
you  especially;  believe  me,  you  must  take  some  rest. 

VIOLET 

How  can  I  rest  when  I  see  all  this  going  on  round  me? 
And  it's  worse  since  the  river  was  poisoned.  We 
simply  can't  go  on  like  this. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
[With  forced  cheerfulness] 
Wait  till  the  relief  gets  through. 

VIOLET 
It  will  never  get  through — in  time. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Severely] 
Never  let  the  men  hear  you  speak  like  that. 

VIOLET 

They  know  it  as  well  as  we  do.  Can't  something  be 
done?  There's  only  one  bottle  of  brandy  left  in  the 
hospital. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

That's  better  than  I  thought.  I  understood  the  last 
was  finished  two  or  three  days  ago. 

VIOLET 

Not  quite  the  last.  Some  one  told  me  you  had  two, 
so  I  commandeered  them. 

[35] 


LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

[Uneasily] 
But  really  I— 

VIOLET 

Yes,  stole  them.  Rummaged  your  kit  until  I  found 
them. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

[A  little  annoyed] 
But  really — my  own  brandy  given  to  the  men! 

VIOLET 

Yours! — It's  His  Majesty's  brandy  for  His  Majesty's 
army. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

You  allow  your  sympathy  to  carry  you  just  a  little 
too  far.  After  all,  there  is  some  difference  between 
the  men  and  myself. 

VIOLET 
[Pointedly] 

Yes,  and  on  some  occasions  a  very  noticeable  differ 
ence.  I  am  very  sorry  I  cannot  return  the  brandy  I 
stole,  but  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  would  return  the 
locket  you  stole  from  me. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Violet,  please. 

VIOLET 

So  he  did.  He  stole  it,  for  what  he  calls  a  keep 
sake.  Well,  I  want  it.  I  value  it.  It  was  the  last 
thing  Dick  gave  me. 

[36] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  have  repeatedly  asked  you  not  to  mention  his  name 
to  me. 

VIOLET 
He  is  your  son. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

He  was,  but  he  is  as  dead  to  me  as  though  he  had 
never  lived. 

VIOLET 
[Soothingly] 

No,  dear,  you  don't  really  mean  that — you  couldn't. 
He  is  your  son,  the  son  of  your  dead  wife. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
He's  dead  too. 

VIOLET 
Yet  you  would  forgive  him  as  she  would  have  done. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Never. 

VIOLET 
I  wonder  where  he  is  now? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Heaven  knows!  Gone  under,  I  expect.  [Dismissing 
the  subject.]  Harford,  what  report  did  the  new  ob 
servation  post  make? 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Nothing  fresh,  sir.  They  are  still  bringing  up  the 
reinforcements.  They've  been  at  it  for  days. 

[37] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Double  the  out-post  tonight.  They  won't  hold  off  the 
attack  much  longer  and  I  think — [Enter  CAPTAIN 
WENTWORTH.  They  salute  each  other.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

[To  COLONEL] 

Ammunition  pretty  short,  sir.  Shall  I  reduce  the 
rounds  again? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

It  would  be  as  well.  It  must  also  be  impressed  on  the 
men  to  hold  their  fire.  We'll  need  every  cartridge 
soon,  or  I  am  very  much  mistaken. 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 
Very  good,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Didn't  you  suggest  calling  volunteers  for  the  pass? 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 
Yes,  sir,  I  took  the  liberty  of  doing  so,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Was  that  necessary?  Don't  you  think  they  can  be 
trusted  to  stick  to  their  posts? 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Yes,  sir — of  course — but— well,  they  are  all  a  bit  ner 
vous  and  sick,  and  they  are  as  superstitious  as  a  lot  of 
school  girls,  and  well— the  place  hasn't  got  a  healthy 
reputation. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Did  they  volunteer? 

[38] 


CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Why,  yes,  the  whole  lot,  and  I  picked  out  a  likely  man, 
Private  Smith — trustworthy,  I  should  imagine,  and 
superior. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Send  him  to  me.  I  would  like  to  speak  to  him,  myself. 
[WENTWORTH  salutes  and  goes  out  R.  with  HARFORD. 
COLONEL  crosses  towards  tent,  hesitates  at  entrance 
a  moment,  then  quietly.}  Violet,  do  you  really  dislike 
Harford? 

VIOLET 
Intensely. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Gravely} 
I  am  very  sorry.     I  had  hoped  one  day  that — that — 

VIOLET 
We  should  marry? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

It  would  have  made  me  very  happy,  and  I  think  your 
father  would  have  wished  it.  When  your  father  died, 
two  days  before  you  arrived  in  India,  I  promised  him 
that  you  would  always  receive  from  me  the  same 
care  and  affection  as  if  you  were  my  own  daughter. 
The  affection  you  quickly  won  in  your  own  right,  and 
when  you  became  engaged  to  my — my — son  [he  looks 
away  as  he  says  the  word]  it  was  the  great  wish  of  my 
life  materialized,  because  I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw,  your 
future  happiness  assured,  and  because  I  loved  you 
both.  [He  changes  his  tone.]  But  when — he — chose 
to  become  a  common  thief  and  passed  out  of  our  lives, 

[39] 


I  realized  I  was  much  older  than  I  had  imagined,  that — 
that  I  might  not  always  be  here  to  guide  you,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  you  happily  married.  First,  because  I 
love  you ;  second,  because  of  the  pledge  to  my  old  chief. 

VIOLET 
You  have  more  than  kept  that,  dear. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

When  the  trouble  came — when  he — made  my  name 
an  unpleasant  by-word  through  the  whole  country — 
when  the  Sunday  press  had  the  audacity  to  publish 
my  photo  as  the  father  of  Lieutenant  Graylen  of  the 
Guards,  who  was  wanted  on  a  charge  of  forgery  and 
who  had  fled  the  country,  when — 

VIOLET 

Don't,  dear,  don't,  you  only  hurt  yourself  by  recalling 
it.  [Almost  to  herself.]  He  must  have  had  a  reason. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

A  reason — yes — he  played  cards  and  backed  horses — 
[bitterly]  a  splendid  reason — only  he  wasn't  a  million 
aire,  so  couldn't  keep  it  up,  and  found  he  could  write 
my  signature  better  than  his  own — I  would  rather  a 
hundred  times  have  become  a  pauper  than  the  bank 
should  have  found  it  out. 

VIOLET 
I  know,  dear,  I  know — 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Just  after  that  Harford  began  paying  you  marked  at 
tentions.  Attentions  which  I  thought  did  not  appear 
unwelcome  to  you. 

[40] 


VIOLET 

They  were  unwelcome,  but  I  had  my  pride — I  couldn't 
bear  to  let  people  see  just  how  much  I  was  hurt. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  didn't  realize  that,  and  when  you  begged  me  to  use 
my  influence  to  get  you  out  here  as  a  nurse,  I  had 
an  idea  that  you  wished  to  be  near  Harford,  and  I 
had  grown  much  attached  to  him  myself — but  I  see 
now  it  is  not  to  be.  [With  a  smile.]  Why,  you  quarrel 
like  a  couple  of  school  children.  [There  is  a  chal 
lenge  heard  off:  "Halt— Who  goes  there?"  Pause — 
"Pass,  friend,  all's  well.]  Ah,  the  volunteer  for  the 
pass — I  should  like  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  mys 
tery.  [HARFORD  enters  and  stands  by  VIOLET.  PRIVATE 
SMITH  enters  and  marches  up  to  COLONEL  GRAYLEN. 
They  are  about  to  salute  each  other,  when  the  mutual 
recognition  of  both  occurs  simultaneously.] 

SMITH 

Dad!  [He  recovers  himself,  coming  stiffly  to  the 
salute.  ]  Sir — 

VIOLET 

[Almost  inaudible.] 
Dick!     [There  is  a  moment's  silence.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

So,  sir,  not  content  with  having  brought  disgrace  upon 
your  family,  not  content  with  breaking  and  evading 
the  law,  you  now  see  fit  to  disgrace  for  the  second 
time  His  Majesty's  service  by  your  presence  here  in 
the  ranks. 

[41] 


SMITH 

I  have  no  answer  to  what  you  say,  sir,  except  that  I 
have  yet  to  disgrace  myself  in  the  ranks. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

You'll  do  that  quickly  enough.  [ VIOLET  makes  a 
move.]  Where  are  you  going,  Violet? 

VIOLET 
I  am  going  to  shake  hands  with — Private  Smith. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Really,  Miss  Lee. 

VIOLET 
Will  you  oblige  me  by  minding  your  own  business? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
I  forbid  it. 

VIOLET 

I  am  sorry  to  disobey  orders,  but  I  am  afraid  it  can't 
be  helped.  [She  shakes  hands  with  SMITH,  then  says 
simply  and  quietly.]  I  just  wanted  to  say  that  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  here  in  the  ranks — it — it  will  help  you 
to  get  back  your  self-respect. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Grimly] 

He  never  had  any.  [HARFORD  smiles.  SMITH  is  about 
to  make  some  retort,  but  thinks  better  of  it  and  re 
mains  at  attention.  VIOLET  gives  the  COLONEL  and 
HARFORD  a  quick  look  of  reproach,  turns  quickly  and 
goes  out.] 

[42] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  take  it  your  volunteering  for  this  duty  is  a  direct 
insult  to  me. 

SMITH 
No,  sir — I  was  hoping  we  should  never  meet  again. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
So  was  I. 

SMITH 
I  had  no  wish  to  cause  you  further  pain. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Pain — it's  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me — you  shall 
stand  by  your  offer  and  do  sentry  duty  tonight  at  the 
Devil's  Pass. 

SMITH 
Thank  you,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

It  is  my  duty  to  warn  you  that  certain  men  have  been 
killed  there  in  an  unusual  manner,  apparently  by  a 
blow  on  the  head,  but  I  have  doubled  the  out-posts, 
and  I  see  no  danger  if  you  can  be  trusted  to  stick  to 
your  post.  You  may  go. 

SMITH 
Thank  you,  sir.      [He  is  about  to  go.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

And  if  we  are  fortunate  enough  to  get  out  of  this 
alive  I  will  have  you  transferred.  If  it  were  not  for 
your  mother's  memory  I  would  hand  you  over  to  the 
police. 

[43] 


SMITH 

I  understand  how  you  feel,  sir.  It  is  useless  for  me 
to  say  I  am  sorry,  but  I  want  you  to  know  I  would 
give  my  life's  blood  to  undo  the  past. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

You  may  go.  [SMITH  salutes,  right-about-turns,  and 
marches  Right.  HARFORD  stops  him.] 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

I  haven't  forgotten  your  insults  to  me,  Graylen,  and 
I  shall  take  the  first  opportunity  of  settling  the  account. 

SMITH 

If  I  am  ever  again  fortunate  enough  to  meet  you  on  an 
equality — when  you  cannot  have  me  court-martialed — 
nothing  will  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  give  you 
a  taste  of  what  I've  learned  from  the  boys  in  the  ranks. 
I  can't  call  it  fancy  work,  but  about  five  minutes  of  it 
would  put  you  out  of  action  quicker  than  anything 
I  know.  [He  salutes.  Exit.  HARFORD  looks  about 
ready  to  explode  with  temper.  He  turns  quickly  to 
the  COLONEL,  who  has  been  silently  watching  his  son.] 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Did  yoU  hear  that,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
I  did — and  damn  me,  he'd  do  it  too ! 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

But  it's  rank  insubordination.  What  shall  we  do 
about  it,  sir? 

[44] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  don't  think  we  can  do  anything.  There  is  no  satis 
faction  in  kicking  a  man  when  he's  down. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

If  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  so,  sir,  I  think  you  are 
far  too  lenient  with  him. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
[Eyeing  him  curiously] 
You  think  so,  Harford? 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
He  never  showed  you  any  consideration. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[IV ho  does  not  appear  to  have  heard  the  last  remark] 
What  name  does  he  call  himself? 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Oh,  Smith,  I  think. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Unconsciously   speaking   his   thoughts   aloud] 
Gad,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  him  here  in  the  ranks. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Yes,  but  he'll  impose  upon  it.  He  knows  you  don't 
want  a  scandal,  and  he'll  either  trade  on  that,  or  else 
he'll  boast  about  it  to  all  the  men  that  his  father  is  the 
officer  in  command.  Of  course  you  can't  have  him 
sent  to  the  base,  because  we  are  surrounded — but  I 
really  think  something  should  be  done.  Why,  it  isn't 
fair  to  Violet  that  he  should  roam  about  at  large.  His 

[45] 


very  presence  must  be  an  awful  embarrassment  to  her. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  place  him  under 
arrest — on — on  some  technical  charge?  [The  COLONEL 
does  not  answer  him.  During  all  the  last  speech  he 
has  been  looking  off  Right,  apparently  deep  in  thought. 
Since  the  meeting  with  his  son,  he  appears  to  have 
aged,  and  when  he  speaks  his  tone  is  less  aggressive.] 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

[Louder] 
Don't  you  think  so,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Realizing,  with  a  start,  that  he  is  being  addressed] 
I  beg  your  pardon.  I — I  was  thinking. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Oh,  of  course,  sir,  I  understand — you  were  wondering 
what  infernal  fate  sent  you  and  Graylen  to  this  God 
forsaken  hole  of  all  places. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[Quietly] 

No.  I — I  was  wondering  what  fate  sent — Private 
Smith. 

CURTAIN 


SCENE  III 

It  is  at  the  foot  of  a  typical  African  mountain.  Typ 
ical,  except  for  the  fact  that  there  is  a  pass  or  gap 
running  through  the  centre  of  the  mountain,  which 

[46] 


is  only  large  enough  to  permit  one  man  or  horse  to 
pass  through  it  at  a  time.  It  is  an  ideal  natural  fort 
ress.  A  few  men  commanding  the  mouth  might 
easily  keep  a  whole  army  at  bay.  There  are  several 
large  boulders  near  the  pass,  and  a  particularly  large 
one  flush  with  the  mountain  on  the  Left.  It  is  a 
bright  star-lit  night  and  the  moon  gives  the  pass  a 
curiously  steely  blue  appearance.  At  the  rise  of  the 
curtain,  the  solitary  figure  of  PRIVATE  SMITH  is 
seen  standing  with  fixed  bayonet,  looking  down  the 
pass  with  his  back  to  the  audience.  For  a  moment 
there  is  silence,  then  the  stillness  is  broken  by  the 
sharp  crack  of  rifle  fire  in  the  distance,  and  a  bugle 
is  faintly  heard — then  again  silence.  PRIVATE 
SMITH  commences  to  pace  a  few  yards  to  the  right 
and  then  to  the  left,  but  always  with  his  eyes  on  the 
pass.  He  pauses  and  listens  intently — a  faint  tap 
ping  sound  can  be  heard — it  is  hard  to  locate — SMITH 
puts  his  ear  to  the  ground  near  the  large  boulder, 
left,  and  listens.  In  a  few  moments  the  noise  ceases 
and  he  resumes  his  pacing  with  a  puzzled  expression 
on  his  face.  There  is  a  sharp  snap  of  a  twig  and  a 
light  foot-step  is  heard  from  the  left.  Instantly  his 
rifle  is  pointed  in  that  direction  and  the  challenge 
rings  out — 

SMITH 
Halt!    Who  goes  there? 

VIOLET 

If  you  promise  not  to  shoot,  I'll  tell  you.     [She  comes 
towards  him  and  he  lowers  his  rifle.] 

(47] 


SMITH 

Violet,  what  are  you  doing  here?  Go  back — Go  back, 
this  is  madness — you'll  get  killed — for  heaven's  sake 
go  back  at  once ! 

VIOLET 

I  had  to  come.  For  two  years  I've  longed  to  see  you, 
to  hear  the  whole  truth.  I  have  at  least  the  right  to 
an  explanation. 

SMITH 

Yes,  dear — yes.  I — will  tell  you  everything  tomorrow, 
but  go  back  now. 

VIOLET 
If  there  is  so  much  danger,  tomorrow  may  be  too  late. 

SMITH 

No,  dear,  no — if  only  you  will  go  back — everything 
will  be  all  right. 

VIOLET 
Why  didn't  you  write  to  me? 

SMITH 

I  was  too  much  ashamed,  I  had  humiliated  you  enough, 
please  go  back,  dear. 

VIOLET 

[Not  attempting  to  move] 
You  humiliated  me  more  by  never  sending  a  word. 

SMITH 

I  tried  to  write  a  hundred  times,  but  what  could  I 
say?  I  couldn't  say  it  was  a  moment's  folly,  every 
man  says  that  when  he  has  behaved  like  a  blackguard — 
I  couldn't  hope  for  forgiveness,  I  could  only  hope  you 
would  soon  forget. 

[48] 


VIOLET 

[Quietly] 

Do  you  think  women  forget  so  easily?  [He  doesn't 
reply,  and  there  is  silence  for  a  moment.  She  looks 
up  into  his  face  and  says  earnestly.]  Dick,  why  did 
you  do  it? 

SMITH 

Why  ?  Why,  because  I  was  a  contemptible,  weak  fool. 
Even  my  love  for  you  wasn't  strong  enough  to  make 
me  give  up  the  empty,  shallow  things  of  life.  When 
the  other  fellows  in  the  Regiment  used  to  bet  in  thous 
ands  I  tried  to  keep  up  with  them — my  allowance 
wouldn't  stand  it — I  got  into  debt.  I  owed  Harford 
quite  a  tidy  sum  of  money.  One  night  I  heard  him 
say  to  Major  Towns  that  he  thought  I  never  intended 
to  pay — that  he  was  beginning  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
gift.  When  I  heard  that  my  blood  boiled — I  can't  tell 
you  how  I  felt — I  really  think  I  did  go  mad.  I — I 
always  disliked  Harford  and  I  felt  I  would  rather  die 
than  be  under  an  obligation  to  him  for  another  hour — 
I  signed  my  father's  name  to  a  cheque.  Then  I  paid 
Harford  back  the  money  I  owed  him,  in  the  presence 
of  the  entire  Mess.  I  was  so  mad,  I  insisted  he  should 
take  interest — I  insulted  him  in  every  way  I  could, 
until  I  was  sent  to  my  quarters  by  the  C.  O.  I  can't 
tell  you  what  I  went  through  that  night.  I  began  to 
realize  what  it  would  mean  to  you  and  Dad.  Next 
morning  the  C.  O.  suggested  that  I  should  ask  for 
leave  of  absence  pending  an  inquiry  into  my  ungentle- 
manly  conduct  of  the  night  before.  For  three  days 
I  suffered  the  tortures  of  Hades — my  one  thought  was 

[49] 


to  save  you  and  Dad  the  shame  of  it.  I'd  have  put  a 
bullet  through  my  head,  but  when  I  thought  of  you 
both,  I  hadn't  the  pluck.  I  tried  everywhere  to  raise 
the  money.  At  last  I  succeeded,  but  I  was  a  few  hours 
too  late.  The  bank  had  found  it  out,  and — well,  you 
know  the  rest.  [VIOLET  turns  her  head  away,  so  that 
he  shall  not  see  the  tears  in  her  eyes.]  I  am  telling 
you  all  this,  not  to  excuse  myself,  because  there  is  no 
excuse — but  because  you  have  a  right  to  know,  and  I 
wanted  you  to  see  it,  if  you  could,  from  my  point  of 
view.  I  can't  expect  your  forgiveness,  I  can't  even 
hope  that  you  will  understand. 

VIOLET 
Yet  love  understands  many  things. 

SMITH 

Violet,  do  you  mean  that — that?  [He  looks  eagerly 
at  her.]  That  you  could  still  find  it  in  your  heart  to 
forgive  me? 

VIOLET 

[Looking  straight  ahead] 

I — I  think  so — if  you  asked  me.  [He  takes  her  quickly 
into  his  arms  and  kisses  her — there  is  a  sound  of 
marching  feet — they  spring  quickly  apart.] 

SMITH 

Quick,  dear— the  Relief  Sentry— they  mustn't  see  you. 
Turn  sharp  to  the  left  and  follow  the  oxen  track  until 
you  get  to  the  dressing  station,  then  straight  through 
to  the  line. 


VIOLET 

[Hurrying  left] 
Until  tomorrow  then. 

SMITH 
Until  tomorrow. 

[Exit  VIOLET.  SMITH  remains  at  the  mouth  of  the  pass 
with  his  rifle  at  the  slope.  As  the  marching  of  feet 
comes  nearer  he  brings  his  rifle  to  the  challenge. 
Six  men  march  towards  the  pass  in  double  file.  They 
are  in  charge  of  DOT,  who  is  acting  as  Temporary 
Corporal. 

DOT 

Halt!     [The  men  do  so.] 

SMITH 
Who  goes  there? 

DOT 
Picket  Company  B. 

SMITH 

Advance  one  and  give  the  counter  sign.  [DoT  ad 
vances  to  SMITH  and  gives  the  password  in  a  whisper. 
SMITH  again  brings  his  rifle  to  the  slope.]  All's  well. 

DOT 

[To  Picket] 

Stand  at  ease.  [The  men  bring  their  rifles  down  with 
a  sharp  click,  then  lean  on  them  in  various  attitudes 
of  tiredness.  DOT  looking  them  over  with  the  keen 
eye  of  a  newly  made  N.  C.]  I  said,  Stand  at  ease — 
not  sit.  [To  SMITH.]  Look  at  'em,  like  a  lot  of 
bloomin'  cab  'orses. 


ONE  OF  THE  MEN 

[Good  humor edly] 
Bit  tired,  Corporal. 

DOT 

Which  bit?  [Smiling.]  Tired,  me  lad.  Why,  you  had 
a  good  sleep  the  day  before  yesterday.  [To  SMITH.] 
Anything  to  report,  sentry? 

SMITH 
Yes,  Corporal. 

DOT 

Well,  let's  'ear  it  quickly,  me  lad,  or  [indicating 
picket]  the  cab  'orses  will  be  starting  in  on  their 
beauty  sleep. 

SMITH 
Can  I  report  to  you  alone,  Corporal? 

DOT 

Ain't  I  getting  exclusive — "'Shun!"  [The  men  come 
smartly  to  attention,  all  sign  of  fatigue  apparently 
vanishing — they  are  once  more  part  of  a  war  ma 
chine.]  "Section  r — r — right!"  [The  men  fall  into 
single  file.]  Wait  for  me  at  the  foot  of  Sixteen — 
"quick,  march!"  [The  men  march  out  through  the 
gap.]  Now,  me  lad,  what  is  it? 

SMITH 
What's  the  time,  Corporal? 

DOT 

[Looking  at  watch] 

Five  to  twelve ;  but  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you 
parted  me  from  my  pet  lambs  to  ask  me  the  time? 

[52] 


SMITH 

Five  minutes  from  now  I  am  to  be  relieved.  I  have 
been  here  since  eight,  during  that  time  I  think  I've 
discovered  something.  You  know  several  sentries  have 
been  killed  here  in  a  mysterious  manner — well,  if  you 
will  do  as  I  ask,  I  think  we  can  clear  up  the  mystery. 
In  a  few  minutes  I  shall  be  relieved  and  marched  back 
to  the  line — well,  I  don't  want  to  be  marched  back  to 
the  line,  I  want  to  remain  right  here. 

DOT 

What's  the  game? 

SMITH 

Will  you  let  one  of  the  pickets  take  my  place?  He'll 
be  relieved  in  a  few  minutes — any  one  of  them  will 
be  glad  to  do  it  and  get  a  night's  rest. 

DOT 

And  you  want  to  come  along  with  me  in  the  Picket? 

SMITH 

No,  I  want  to  stay  right  here  and  work  on  my  own. 
[Quickly.]  There's  no  time  to  tell  you  any  more  now. 
Will  you  do  it?  I  know  it's  breaking  regulations,  but 
you  may  be  doing  your  country  a  service — will  you 
do  it? 

DOT 
If  I  got  copped,  the  old  man'll  eat  me  alive. 

SMITH 

Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  how  "Sloper"  was  put  out? 
Quick,  there  isn't  a  moment  to  lose — will  you  do  it? 

[53] 


DOT 

If  you  think  there's  a  chance  of  plugging  the  bloke 
wot  did  poor  old  Sloper  in — sure,  I  am  with  you.  [He 
holds  out  his  hand  to  SMITH,  who  shakes  it.] 

SMITH 

Quick,  get  your  man. 

DOT 

Half  a  jiffy,  I'll  have  him  back  here  in  two  shakes. 

[He  rushes  off  and  SMITH  is  again  alone  at  the  mouth 
of  the  pass.  He  examines  his  rifle  carefully  to  make 
sure  it's  in  good  working  order,  and  takes  a  quick 
glance  to  the  right  from  whence  he  expects  the  re 
lief.  He  sees  no  one,  remains  still  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  the  faint  tapping  sound  begins  again,  this  time 
a  little  louder,  and  he  goes  quickly  to  the  big  boulder 
and  listens.  The  sound  grows  louder  still.  He  makes 
a  quick  examination  of  the  boulder,  then  his  eyes 
catch  sight  of  a  small  shining  object  on  the  ground. 
He  picks  it  up  and  takes  it  to  the  mouth  of  the  pass, 
where  the  light  is  stronger.  He  examines  it  a 
moment,  then  puts  it  quickly  into  his  pocket.  As  he 
does  so  DOT,  followed  by  another  man,  hurries  in.] 

DOT 

Have  we  made  it  in  time?  'E'll  do  it  for  yer.  [In 
dicating  other  man.]  'E's  so  grateful,  probably  want 
to  adopt  you  afterwards.  [SMITH  takes  the  object 
which  he  has  picked  up  out  of  his  pocket  and  shows 
it  to  DOT.] 

SMITH 
What  do  you  make  of  that? 

[54] 


DOT 

[He  takes  it] 
Why,  it's  a  button  off  a  German  tunic. 

SMITH 

Exactly.  Now  I  want  to  break  another  regulation. 
Instead  of  going  on  your  round,  stay  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  for  half  an  hour,  and  if  you  hear  a  rifle  shot  bring 
your  picket  back  here  at  the  double.  Do  you  under 
stand? 

DOT 
'Ere,  I  ain't  quite  on  to  this  yet. 

SMITH 

I've  no  time  to  explain  now.    Quick,  here's  the  relief. 

[To  the  other  soldier.]    All  you  got  to  do  is  to  stand 

here  and  take  your  relief  and  keep  your  mouth  shut 

when  you  get  back. 

THE  MAN 

Right  you  are,  mate. 

[There  is  a  sound  of  marching  Right,  and  SMITH 
hurries  DOT  off,  leaving  soldier  in  his  late  position 
at  the  mouth  of  pass.  The  sound  of  marching  gets 
nearer,  and  the  RELIEF  SENTRY  marches  on  in 
charge  of  a  SERGEANT.] 

SERGEANT 

Halt! 

[The  formality  of  changing  guard  takes  place  and  the 
SERGEANT  marches  off  his  men  in  the  direction  from 
which  they  came,  leaving  a  new  man  at  the  mouth 
of  the  pass,  who  proceeds  to  pace  up  and  down.  A 
tapping  sound  is  again  heard,  this  time  quite  loud. 

[55] 


After  a  moment  the  SENTRY  hears  it,  then  looks 
about  him  nervously.  At  that  moment  there  is  the 
sound  of  a  sudden  foot-step  from  the  left  and 
LIEUTENANT  HARFORD  enters.  SENTRY  points  rifle 
and  challenges.} 

SENTRY 

Advance  one  and  give  the  counter  sign.  [HARFORD 
steps  up  to  the  point  of  his  bayonet  and  gives  the 
pass-word.  ] 

SENTRY 
All's  well. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Anything  to  report,  sentry? 

SENTRY 

I  don't  rightly  know,  sir ;  I've  only  been  on  duty  about 
a  minute,  but  I  think  I  'card  a  sound  like  shovelling. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Where  from? 

SENTRY 

Sounded  as  if  it  came  from  the  ground,  sir — some 
where  over  there.  [Pointing  to  boulder,  left.] 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Letting  your  imagination  run  away  with  you?  Any 
way,  let's  have  a  look.  [He  walks  left  to  boulder; 
examines  it.]  I  don't  see  anything  unusual  here. 

SENTRY 

No,  I  didn't  see  anything,  sir,  but  I  thought  I  heard  a 
noise  just  over  'ere  somewhere.  [He  goes  over  and 
bends  down.  As  quick  as  a  flash  HARFORD  brings  the 

[56] 


butt  of  his  revolver  down  on  the  back  of  his  head. 
With  a  moan  the  man  sinks  to  the  ground  insensible. 
HARFORD  consults  his  watch — then  drags  the  man, 
Right,  away  from  front  of  boulder  and  with  butt  end 
of  his  revolver  taps  the  rock  sharply  seven  times. 
There  is  a  pause,  then  the  boulder  slowly  revolves, 
showing  the  mouth  of  a  dark  tunnel  running  through 
mountain.  Three  men  in  German  uniform  quickly 
spring  from  the  darkness.  One  is  an  officer — CAPTAIN 
LEHMAN.  He  goes  up  to  LIEUTENANT  HARFORD. 
They  salute.] 

CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 
Ich  gruesse  Sie,  Herr  Lieutenant. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Gruesse,  Herr  Hauptman. 

CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 
You  are  punctual,  my  friend.     You  had  no  trouble 

with  the  sentry? 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Not  much.  [He  points  to  the  insensible  form  of  the 
sentry,  Right.]  What  are  the  orders,  Herr  Captain? 

CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 

Der  Herr  Oberst  commands  me  to  inform  you  that 
the  attack  must  take  place  tonight.  There  is  a  British 
relief  force  less  than  a  hundred  miles  away  and  the 
tunnel  is  now  complete.  If  we  can  use  it  undisturbed 
for  a  few  hours — we  can  pour  in  sufficient  troops  to 
take  and  hold  these  positions.  Reinforcements  can 
come  through  both  the  pass  and  the  tunnel.  We  have 

[57] 


troops  already  massed  on  our  side  of  the  tunnel.  If 
all  is  well  here  we  can  begin  operations  at  once. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

All  is  ready  here,  Herr  Captain.  The  sooner  we  teach 
these  English  swine  a  lesson  the  better.  I  spent  ten 
years  of  my  life  among  the  pig-headed  officers  of  the 
British  army,  but  it  was  worth  it  for  the  cause  of  the 
"Fatherland."  I  cannot  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  to 
know  that  before  sun  rise  tomorrow  I  shall  again  be 
among  my  own  people. 

CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 

You  have  done  well.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I 
will  hasten  to  inform  my  Herr  Oberst.  One  moment — 
[He  takes  a  powerful  flash  lamp  from  one  of  his  men 
and  gives  it  to  LIEUTENANT  HARFORD.  While  he  is 
doing  this  the  form  of  PRIVATE  SMITH  is  seen  creeping 
towards  boulder,  Right.  He  reaches  its  shelter  un 
observed  by  the  Germans.] — Take  this  and  when  all 
is  ready  flash  "Dash — two  dots" — as  usual.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  troops  will  be  through  the  tunnel  and 
our  work  will  have  begun.  [He  moves  as  if  to  re-enter 
the  tunnel,  followed  by  the  men.] 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

[Stopping  him] 

Everything  is  ready  now,  except  for  the  fact  that  the 
Colonel  himself  is  making  the  inspection  of  the  out 
posts.  He  is  bound  to  come  here,  as  he  naturally  can 
not  understand  the  deaths  of  the  sentries  so  far  inside 
the  lines.  What  if  his  escort  should  arrive  before  we 
are  ready? 

[58] 


CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 
They  are  numbered — how  many? 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 
Oh,  not  more  than  six — but  it  might  be  very  awkward. 

CAPTAIN  LEHMAN 

In  that  case  I  will  leave  my  orderlies  with  you.  Three 
of  you,  with  good  cover  and  taking  them  by  surprise, 
should  be  able  to  account  for  them  easily.  [To  German 
soldiers.]  Wartet  hier  mit  Herren  Lieutenant  Har- 
ford  und  folgt  seinen  Befehlen.  [He  salutes  LIEU 
TENANT  HARFORD.]  Auf  Wiedersehen. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Auf  Wiedersehen,  Captain. 

[The  CAPTAIN  disappears  through  the  mouth  of  the 
tunnel.  HARFORD  indicates  to  the  men  to  put  the 
boulder  back  into  position.  They  salute  and  do  so. 
HARFORD  places  one  man  Right  and  the  other  Left, 
then  consults  his  watch  again.  Goes  to  the  mouth 
of  the  pass  and  with  the  flash  light  is  just  about  to 
give  the  signal,  when  SMITH'S  two  hands  shoot  out 
from  the  side  of  the  boulder,  grasp  him  by  the 
ankles,  and  with  a  quick  jerk  HARFORD'S  legs  are 
pulled  from  under  him.  He  lands  heavily  on  his 
face.  In  a  moment  SMITH  is  kneeling  on  his  back 
and  his  rifle  rings  out.  The  German  Left  falls,  shot. 
The  German  Right  fires  hastily  at  SMITH  ;  not  wait 
ing  to  take  aim  his  bullet  misses  its  mark.  Before 
he  can  again  fire  DOT  and  the  picket  rush  in  and  a 
couple  of  bayonets  are  placed  against  his  back  and 

[59] 


he  drops  his  rifle  and  throws  up  his  hands  in  sur 
render.  ] 

DOT 

[To  GERMAN] 

There's  a  good  boy — do  as  yer  mother  tells  yer. 
[During  this  SMITH  has  taken  HARFORD'S  revolver  and 
sword  from  him  and  allowed  him  to  rise.] 

SMITH 

So  you  are  a  spy,  are  you?  [Two  of  the  men  go  to 
the  fallen  sentry  who  begins  to  show  signs  of  life  and 
place  him  in  a  sitting  position  on  boulder,  Right.} 

DOT 

[Excitedly] 

We  see'd  it  all.  Didn't  fancy  leaving  you  alone — so 
we  sneaked  round  back  the  other  way ;  then  we  riggled 
up  'ere  on  our  tummies — just  behind  you — and  waits. 
They  was  all  for  rushing  in — but  I  knows  you  'ad 
some  little  game,  so  I  made  them  wait — but  when  we 
see'd  little  Fritzie  'ere  getting  nasty  with  'is  pop-gun 
we  'ops  in  and  joins  the  party.  [Looking  at  HAR- 
FORD.]  Ain't  you  a  parlor  snake? 

SMITH 
Good  man,  Dot — you  saved  my  life. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Why  the  Devil  don't  you  put  a  bullet  in  me  and  get 
it  over. 

DOT 

Because  we  like  your  'ciety.  You  don't  know  how 
funny  yer  look. 

[60] 


ONE  OF  THE  MEN 

The  old  man  and  his  escort  coming  along  the  track. 
[HARFORD  makes  a  start  forward.  SMITH  covers  him 
with  a  revolver.] 

SMITH 

Stay  right  where  you  are,  you  are  going  to  see  this 
through. 

DOT 
[Who  at  the  very  mention  of  the  COLONEL'S  name  loses 

all  his  cheerfulness] 

Will  you  tell  'im,  mate,  I  always  loses  me  breath  when 
he  comes  near  me. 

SMITH 
[Smiling] 
Oh,  I'll  tell  him  all  right. 

LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

For  God's  sake,  shoot  me  and  put  me  out  of  my  misery. 
[Suddenly  all  the  men  become  stiffly  erect,  then  come 

smartly  to  the  salute  as  COLONEL  GRAYLEN,  followed 

by  CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH  and  his  escort,  appear. 

COLONEL   GRAYLEN   is  unable   to  realize  what  the 

situation  means.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Release  Lieutenant 
Harford  immediately. 

SMITH 
May  I  report  first,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Yes,  go  on. 

[61] 


SMITH 

Lieutenant  Harford  is  in  reality  a  German  spy,  sir. 
We  captured  him  with  these  other  two  Germans — 
after  they  had  put  our  sentry  out  of  action.  We  pre 
viously  heard  them  arrange  with  a  German  Captain 
for  a  surprise  attack  tonight  through  a  tunnel  running 
from  the  German  lines  to  here.  The  plan  being,  to  gain 
admission  to  the  inner  line  without  disturbing  our  out 
posts,  the  attack  from  rear  and  front  cutting  our 
forces  in  half — relying  on  our  shortage  of  men  and  the 
confusion  of  a  quick  thrust  to  take  these  positions. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Surely,  this  must  be  some  hideous  mistake.  Harford? 
[HARFORD  does  not  reply.]  Harford,  you  can  ex plain f 

DOT 

It's  quite  right,  sir — look — [goes  over  to  boulder  and 
tries  to  move  it,  but  it  is  too  heavy.  Some  of  the  men 
go  over  and  help  him,  and  the  boulder  is  pulled  slowly 
back.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Good  Lord!  [Looking  down  tunnel]  It  must  have 
taken  them  weeks  to  make  it. 

SMITH 

Harford  arranged  with  a  German  officer  to  flash — 
dash — two  dots  with  this.  [Picks  up  torch.]  That  is 
the  signal  for  them  to  send  the  troops  down  the  tunnel. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Have  you  anything 
to  say? 

[62] 


LIEUTENANT  HARFORD 

Yes.  I  don't  want  any  of  your  darn  sermons.  I  am 
German  and  I'm  proud  of  it — now  get  it  over  as 
quickly  as  you  like. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Place  that  man  under  arrest.  [Two  men  take  up 
position  both  sides  of  HARFORD.]  Keep  him  under 
strong  guard.  He  will  be  dealt  with  according  to  the 
regulations  of  war.  [The  other  German  is  brought 
up  with  HARFORD,  and  they  are  both  marched  off  under 
escort.  The  wounded  German  is  also  taken  off.] 
I  thank  you — Private  Smith — for  what  you  have  done. 
[To  WENTWORTH.]  Have  a  machine  gun  section 
brought  here  immediately.  [WENTWORTH  salutes  and 
rushes  off.]  What  was  the  signal  for  them  to  come 
through? 

SMITH 
Dash — two  dots,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

They  are  probably  well  into  the  tunnel  now — waiting 
for  the  order  to  rush  through.  We  had  better  wait  a 
few  minutes.  Go  in  a  few  yards,  Sergeant,  and  listen. 
[The  SERGEANT  goes  into  the  tunnel  and  lies  down 
with  his  ear  on  the  ground.] 

SMITH 

The  German  officer  also  said,  sir,  that  there  is  a  British 
relief  within  a  hundred  miles  of  here. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Thank  heaven  for  that.  They  are  probably  trying 
to  locate  our  whereabouts. 

[63] 


SMITH 

Do  you  think  they  will  succeed — unless  some  one  gets 
through  to  tell  them  just  where  we  are,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

It  is  impossible  to  get  through.  We  are  hemmed  in 
on  all  sides.  I  couldn't  afford  sufficient  men  to  even 
make  an  attempt.  We  must  wait  and  hope.  Do  you 
hear  anything,  Sergeant? 

SERGEANT 
No,  sir. 

DOT 
Machine  gun  section  coming,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Give  me  that  torch.  [He  takes  it  from  SMITH.]  Now, 
dash — two  dots.  [He  flashes  the  signals.  WENTWORTH 
rushes  in  followed  by  machine  gunners.  At  a  word 
from  him  they  quickly  mount  their  guns.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Took  them  from  eighty-three,  sir — sent  word  for 
others  to  take  their  place — quicker  that  way. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Good.     Do  you  hear  anything,  Sergeant? 

SERGEANT 

Not  yet,  sir.  [The  machine  guns  are  now  mounted  and 
ready  for  action.] 

[64] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

[To  WENTWORTH] 

Take  up  position  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel.  [WENT 
WORTH  gives  a  sharp  command  and  two  machine  guns 
take  up  the  position.] 

SERGEANT 

[At  mouth  of  tunnel] 

Can  hear  a  sort  of  rumbling  noise — but  a  long  way  off, 
sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Good.  Carry  on,  Sergeant.  [SERGEANT  goes  back  to 
his  position  on  the  ground.]  Corporal!  [DOT  comes 
smartly  to  the  salute.]  My  compliments  to  Major 
Allard.  Tell  him  to  send  me  here  every  man  he  can 
spare  and  machine  guns,  and  tell  him  to  "carry  on" 
until  he  receives  further  instructions  from  me.  [DoT 
salutes  and  hurries  off.]  It's  as  well  to  be  prepared, 
Wentworth,  in  case  the  guns  should  jam. 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Rather,  sir — but  as  soon  as  we  open  fire  they  are 
bound  to  get  in  a  panic — in  that  narrow  tunnel  they'll 
all  get  jammed  to  blazes.  When  they  have  retreated 
we  can  dynamite  the  tunnel  and  put  an  end  to  it. 

SERGEANT 
They  seem  to  be  a  bit  nearer  now,  sir. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Good,  carry  on. 

SMITH 
May  I  make  a  suggestion,  sir? 

[65] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Yes.    What  is  it? 

SMITH 

A  few  moments  ago  you  said  you  couldn't  spare  the 
men  to  try  and  get  through  to  the  relief — but  you  can 
spare  one  man.  Will  you  let  me  try? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
How  do  you  mean  ? 

SMITH 

One  man  might  be  able  to  work  his  way  through — I 
think  I  can.  I've  got  a  compass  and  a  fair  idea  of 
the  country.  Will  you  let  me  try? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
It  would  be  certain  death. 

SMITH 
Will  you  let  me  try? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
[Hesitating  a  moment,  then  quietly] 
When  do  you  want  to  start — my — boy?      [He    says 
the  last  two  words  under  his  breath.] 

SMITH 

Now,  sir.  There  is  bound  to  be  a  lot  of  confusion 
when  they  find  out  about  the  tunnel.  It  may  give  me 
a  better  chance.  May  I  go,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

You  have  my  permission — to  try.  [SMITH  makes  a 
movement  as  if  to  go.] 

[66] 


CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Take  extra   water  bottles   and  bandoliers — you  will 

need  them. 

[The  men  offer  their  water  bottles  to  SMITH,  who  takes 
two  and  slings  them  across  his  shoulder,  also  an 
extra  bandelier.  Several  men  offer  him  biscuits  from 
their  haversacks,  which  he  takes  and  puts  into  his 
own.] 

SMITH 

With  your  permission  now,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  go. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

In  case  we  do  not  meet  again,  I  wish  you  good  luck 
and  God  speed,  Private  Smith.  [He  holds  out  his 
hand — SMITH  grips  it.  There  is  a  faint  cheer  from 
the  men.  SMITH  salutes,  turns  sharply,  and  is  gone.] 

SERGEANT 

[Rushing  out  of  tunnel] 

Tramping  of  feet  quite  near,  sir — few  hundred  yards, 
I  should  think. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Captain  Wentworth,  let  them  have  it. 
[The  officers  draw  their  revolvers  and  the  men  group 
themselves  behind  the  machine  guns.    A  faint  noise 
can  be  heard  corning  through  the  tunnel.     CAPTAIN 
WENTWORTH  raises  his  hand.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Machine  gunners,  take  aim — f-i-r-e !  [As  the  crack  of 
the  bullets  and  the  spurt  of  flames  emerge  from  the 
guns  the  curtain  quickly  falls.] 

[67] 


SCENE  IV 

[The  curtain  remains  down  thirty  seconds  to  denote 
the  passing  of  three  weeks.  At  the  rise  of  the  cur 
tain  the  scene  is  the  same  as  Scene  III — except  for 
the  fact  that  where  the  tunnel  was,  is  now  a  mass 
of  debris — the  results  of  an  explosion.  It  is  early 
dawn  and  the  atmosphere  is  hazy.  At  the  mouth  of 
the  pass  stands  SOAPY.  A  Corporal  and  a  Private 
are  kneeling  beside  him.  They  are  looking  intently 
at  something  in  the  distance.  In  the  foreground, 
DOT  and  eight  other  men  are  sleeping,  rolled  in 
blankets.  Stacked  in  the  centre  of  them  are  their 
rifles,  ready  for  emergency.  There  is  the  continual 
boom  of  big  guns  in  the  distance.] 

SOAPY 

Them  guns  'aint  stopped  for  six  hours.  Can't  under 
stand  where  they're  firing.  Nothin'  comin'  in  this 
direction. 

CORPORAL 
Blimy — look !  I  told  you  I  see'd  something  an  hour  ago. 

HUDSON 

There  must  be  thousands  of  'em  coming  out  of  the 
valley.  They're  coming  straight  for  us.  It's  all  up 
with  us.  'Ere,  Dot!  Dot!  [He  goes  over  to  DOT,  and 
with  a  kick  awakens  him.  The  other  men  also  awaken 
and  grab  their  rifles  hastily.] 

DOT 

[Half  asleep} 
Wot  is  it? 

[68] 


HUDSON 

[Rushing  back  to  pass] 
It's  come !     It's  come  ! 

DOT 
Wot  'as? 

SOAPY 
Our  last  hour. 

DOT 
Well — wot  d'yer  want  to  wake  me  up  for? 

SOAPY 

Enemy  advancing,  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away — 
[more  excited]  millions  and  millions  of  'em.  What's 
the  matter  with  the  out-posts?  Why  ain't  they  re 
ported?  'Ere,  quick!  Somebody  send  word  down 
the  line.  [A  man  rushes  off  to  do  so.  By  this  time  all 
the  men  are  at  the  pass.] 

DOT 

The  nerve  of  'em  marching  up  just  as  if  they  was  on 
parade. 

SOAPY 
Wot's  the  matter  with  our  guns  ?    Why  ain't  they  firing  ? 

DOT 

[Very  agitated] 
'Ave  the  staff  gawn  mad  ? 

SOAPY 
Ain't  it  wicked !    Wish  I  could  see  a  bit  better. 

DOT 

Yes  !    Damn  the  mist ! 

[There  is  the  faint  sound  of  drum  and  fife,  but  so  far 

[69] 


away  that  the  tune  is  inaudible.    The  men  stop  talk 
ing  and  listen;  then  there  is  a  general  murmur.] 

SOAPY 

And  they've  got  a  band  with  'em  too!  blimy,  what  a 
nerve ! 

DOT 

Look !  Look !  can  yer  make  out  that  officer  coming  at 
the  'ead  of  'em — Like  a  bloomin'  turkey  cock — 
Who's  got  a  cartridge?  I'm  out — can  plug  'im  from 
'ere.  [One  of  the  men  hands  him  a  cartridge,  which 
he  jams  into  the  breech,  and  brings  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder — taking  careful  aim.  At  that  moment,  CAP 
TAIN  WENTWORTH  rushes  in — seeing  DOT  about  to 
fire  he  stops  dead.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

[In  surprise] 
What  the  devil  are  you  doing? 

DOT 

Enemy  on  us,  sir — taking  a  pot  shot. 
CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

Hold  your  fire,  you  imbecile,  can't  you  see  they're 
British? 

DOT 

British?  British?— well,  I'm  blowed!  [There  is  a 
cheer  from  the  men,  and  the  sound  of  the  drum  and 
fifes  comes  nearer.] 

CAPTAIN  WENTWORTH 

I  thought  everyone  knew.  They've  been  hammering 
away  all  night.  Didn't  you  hear  the  guns?  [DoT  nods 

[70] 


his  head  stupidly-]  At  three  o'clock  this  morning, 
they  completely  routed  the  enemy,  who  are  now  re 
treating  in  disorder  with  our  cavalry  on  its  heels. 
[There  is  another  cheer  from  the  men.  The  sound 
of  the  music  is  more  distinct  now;  they  are  playing 
"The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me/']  The  General  and  his 
advance  guard,  coming  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
Colonel.  Look  alive  there — let  them  think  you've  en 
joyed  the  last  three  months.  [They  all  come  smartly  to 
attention — as  COLONEL  GRAYLEN  enters  with  his  staff, 
also  VIOLET  and  several  other  nurses.  They  all  hurry 
to  look  through  the  pass.  By  this  time  the  music  is 
quite  near.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Splendid!  Just  in  time  to  meet  them. 
[The  band  stops  at  the  end  of  a  strain,  and  a  dozen 
or  so  men  of  the  Imperial  Light  Horse  march  in 
through  the  pass.  They  are  "Halted"  by  the  SER 
GEANT  and  "Present  arms"  to  COLONEL  GRAYLEN. 
LIEUTENANT  BRETT  enters  briskly.  He  is  as  breezy 
as  ever,  but  looks  a  little  older,  and  very  tired-  He 
goes  to  COLONEL  GRAYLEN  and  salutes.] 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
Colonel  Graylen,  I  believe,  sir? 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
[Holding  out  his  hand] 
Happy  to  meet  you,  Lieutenant — er — ? 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

Brett,  sir — late  Transportation  Staff — now  I.  L.  H. 
The  General's  compliments,  sir.  He  will  be  with  you 

[71] 


in  a  minute.  [With  a  broad  smile.  ]  Gad!  but  it's 
been  a  thick  night,  sir! 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

Afraid  we  were  not  much  help.  As  soon  as  I  knew 
your  forces  were  in  touch  with  the  enemy — had  to 
hold  my  fire — didn't  know  whom  I  might  be  hitting. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
Quite  so,  sir. 

[COLONEL  GRAYLEN  introduces  LIEUTENANT  BRETT  to 
his  staff  officers,  and  then  the  nurses.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
And  this  is  my  ward  Miss  Lee — Lieutenant  Brett. 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 
[Taking  her  hand] 
Are  you — Miss  Violet  Lee? 

VIOLET 
Yes,  why? 

LIEUTENANT  BRETT 

May  I  speak  to  you  alone  for  a  minute?  I  have  a 
message  to  deliver.  [VIOLET  gives  him  a  quick,  shy 
smile — they  move  Left.  The  command  rings  out — 
"Eyes  front" — and  COLONEL  SIR  CHARLES  AMES 
comes  through  the  pass  followed  by  his  aide-de-camp. 
Every  one  salutes,  and  he  and  COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
shake  hands.] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am,  Sir  Charles — you 
were  just  in  time. 

[72] 


SIR  CHARLES 

It  is  indeed  an  honour  to  be  of  service  to  so  distin 
guished  a  soldier  as  yourself.  We  have  many  mutual 
friends  in  India.  [By  this  time  VIOLET  and  BRETT 
have  moved  out  of  sight-] 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  was  beginning  to  lose  hope — my  stores  and  ammuni 
tion  are  practically  gone.  And  when  it  was  reported 
to  me  last  night  that  you  were  within  ten  miles  of  us, 
I  think  I  was  the  happiest  man  in  all  Africa — previous 
to  that  I  had  no  knowledge  that  you  were  even  in  the 
vicinity. 

SIR  CHARLES 

It's  very  lucky  we  found  you  at  all.  We  were  strik 
ing  too  far  west,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  man  of 
yours  finding  us  I  don't  think  we  should  ever  have 
found  you — at  least — in  time.  Gad !  he  had  some  pluck. 
Pretty  badly  shot  up  when  he  found  us — don't  think 
he'd  eaten  for  days — but  he  stuck  to  it — even  made  a 
map  of  the  way  he  came.  If  Private  Smith  doesn't 
get  a  V.  C.  it  won't  be  my  fault.  I've  sent  my  recom 
mendation. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
Where  is  he  now? 

SIR  CHARLES 

Oh,  he  died  the  day  he  reached  us ;  we  buried  him  west 
of  Kloof-Smith.  [The  COLONEL  becomes  suddenly 
erect,  and  stares  straight  before  him.] 

[73] 


COLONEL  GRAYLEN 
[Very  slowly  and  deliberately} 

Sir  Charles,  if  Private  Smith  is  awarded  the  V.  C. 
will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  see  that  it  is  sent  to  me? 

SIR  CHARLES 

[Rather  puzzled] 

Well — I — er — thought  of  having  it  sent  to  his  people. 

COLONEL  GRAYLEN 

I  am  proud  to  say,  Sir  Charles,  that  Private  Smith  was 
my  son.     [In  a  whisper.]     God  rest  his  soul. 

CURTAIN 


[74] 


AS  A  PAL 


CAST     OF     CHARACTERS 

'ERB,  a  linen-draper's  assistant 
TED,  his  pal,  of  the  same  ilk 
CYNTHIA,  a  maid 
NANCY,  a  Brixton  flapper 

SCENE 
*ERB\y  lodgings  somewhere  in  Belham 

[ORIGINAL  CAST] 

'£RB  Mr.  Compton  Cootes 

TED  Mr.  Charles  Douglas 

NANCY  Miss  Doric  Sawyer 

CYNTHIA  Miss  Hilda  Sims 


AS  A  PAL 

"None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair" 

SCENE 

Typical  of  the  cheap  suburban  lodging-house.  On  the 
walls  are  the  usual  pictures  of  the  dear  departed 
members  of  the  family.  In  the  centre  is  a  small 
round  table,  on  the  right  of  which  is  a  dilapidated 
couch,  just  large  enough  to  hold  two  with  comfort. 
On  the  left  of  the  table  is  an  antiquated  horsehair 
armchair,  with  most  of  its  padding  protruding.  The 
door  is  in  the  centre  to  the  right — and  when  open 
shows  a  mean  little  passage  which  leads  to  the  street 
door.  On  the  mantelpiece  are  the  usual  china  dogs, 
and  other  knick-knacks,  most  of  which  proclaim 
loudly  that  they  are  presents  from  Margate,  South- 
end,  etc.,  etc.  The  remainder  of  the  furniture  is  in 
uniform  sordidness. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  '£RB  is  discovered  with  box 
ing-gloves  on — fighting  an  imaginary  opponent.  He 
is  a  flashy,  weedy  individual — a  typical  shop-boy  of 
London  Suburbia.  He  is  dressed  with  infinite  care — 
although  in  the  most  obvious  bad  taste.  His  socks 

[77] 


and  tie  might  easily  put  the  combined  colours  of  the 
Allies  to  shame. 

He  makes  a  left  upper-cut  at  his  imaginary  opponent 
when  the  door  opens  and  CYNTHIA  stands  in  the 
opening — surveying  him  with  contempt.  By  courtesy 
we  will  call  her  a  servant,  though  being  maid-of-all 
work,  perhaps  drudge  would  be  more  appropriate. 
She  has  no  respect  for  place  or  persons, — her  sole 
recommend  being  a  sharp  tongue. 

CYNTHIA 

[Quietly] 
Ain't  you  a  fool ! 

'ERB 
I  don't  want  no  cheek  from  you,  my  girl. 

CYNTHIA 

Your  girl!  You  flatter  yerself,  don't  yer?  [Puts  tea- 
tray  on  table  with  a  bang.]  'Ere's  yer  tea  and  'ere's 
yer  cakes.  I  'opes  the  young  person  will  like  'em. 

'ERB 

[In  a  superior  manner] 

Now  look  'ere,  my  girl,  I've  told  you  before  it's  my 
cousin  wot's  coming  to  tea. 

CYNTHIA 

Yes !  Long  lost  cousin !  Must  'ave  lost  'er  senses  if 
she's  gone  on  you.  [She  moves  towards  the  door.] 
Cousin !  You  can't  kid  me !  You  wouldn't  waste 
threepence  on  cakes  for  no  relation! 

[78] 


'£RB 
[Raising  his  voice] 

I  tell  you,  my  girl — 

[Exit  CYNTHIA,  slamming  the  door.  '£RB  takes  off  the 
boxing-gloves  and  tries  to  find  the  most  conspicuous 
place  in  'which  to  put  them — finally  deciding  to 
deposit  them  one  on  each  side  of  the  tea-tray. 
He  puts  on  his  coat,  goes  to  the  mirror,  and  surveys 
himself  with  care — takes  a  little  comb  out  of  his 
vest  pocket  and  rearranges  his  hair.  He  is  evidently 
pleased  with  the  effect,  and  commences  to  whistle 
"Let's  All  Go  Down  the  Strand."  The  door  opens 
suddenly  and  CYNTHIA  appears.  Behind  her  is  TED. 
He  is  much  the  same  type  as  '£RB,  though  much 
slower  in  speech,  and  gives  one  the  impression  of 
being  not  quite  so  quick-witted.  He  is  dressed  for 
cycling  in  the  approved  suburban  manner, — Norfolk 
coat — knee-breeches — cheap  cycling  hose  with  atro 
ciously  coloured  tops, — a  very  high  double  collar 
and  a  broad  check  cap.] 

CYNTHIA 
'Ere  you  are. 

TED 
Give  us  a  kiss,  duckie. 

CYNTHIA 
Give  us  a  chance!     [Exit.} 

'£RB 
Ted,  my  old  pal,  I'm  glad  ter  see  you. 

[79] 


TED 
Wot  are  you  after?     [Moves  down  stage.] 

'ERB 

Sit  down  and  make  yourself  comfortable.  [TED  looks 
at  him  distrustfully.]  'Ere  'ave  a  nice  cake. 

TED 

Ain't  yer  well?  So  long!  [He  makes  a  movement  as 
if  to  go.] 

'ERB 

'Ere,  wait  a  minute,  Ted  !  —  Ted,  you  got  my  letter  at 
the  shop  asking  you  to  come  round  here,  didn't  you? 

TED 
Yes. 

'ERB 

Well,  listen,  Ted.  I  want  you  to  stay  to  tea.  I've  got 
a  little  scheme,  and  I  want  you  to  'elp  me  with  it. 

TED 

It  can't  be  done.  I've  'ired  a  bike  —  ninepence  an  hour 
—  going  into  the  country,  Tooting  way.  It's  outside 
now.  So  long  !  [He  again  makes  a  movement  towards 
the  door.] 

'ERB 

Ted!  Ted!  [Going  towards  him.]  I've  got  a  girl 
coming  round  to  tea. 

TED 

[Rather  undecided] 
Is  —  she  —  bringing  a  friend? 


'Course  not! 

[80] 


TED 

Well,  so  long!     [He  reaches  the  door.] 

'£RB 

[Catching  TED  by  arm  and  pulling  him  down  centre} 
Listen,  Ted.  She's  a  peach — prettiest  girl  I  ever  see — 
well  connected  too — oh  yes — 'er  father  keeps  a  public 
'ouse  down  Brixton  way.  [With  a  far-away  smile] 
She's  just  crazy  about  me — won't  look  at  another 
fellow. 

TED 
Won't  she?    Well,  so  long!     My  bike's  waiting. 

'ERB 

Well,  let  it  wait ! 

TED 

Yes,  but  ninepence  is  ninepence.  [Looks  at  his 
watch.]  Your  love  affair  has  cost  me  threeha'pence 
already.  [Makes  another  attempt  to  go;  '£RB  stops 
him.] 

'ERB 

I'll  make  it  all  right.  Now  listen,  Ted!  I  want  you 
to  'elp  me,  as  a  pal.  This  girl — Nancy's  'er  name — 
she  come  into  the  shop  about  a  week  ago,  and  while  I 
was  serving  'er,  we  got  talking  and  chatting,  you  know, 
and  I  could  see  by  'er  eyes  she  rather  admired  me. 
This  ain't  no  laughing  matter,  Ted!  So  that  night, 
after  the  shop  closed,  I  took  'er  to  a  picture  palace.  We 
got  on  fine  together.  Well,  when  the  'ero  in  the  picture 
threw  the  villain  and  'is  'orse  over  the  cliff,  she  says — 
getting  'old  of  my  'and — "Ain't  that  splendid?"  And 
I  sort  of  taken  back,  and  not  knowing  quite  wot  ter 

[81] 


say,  says,  "Oh,  that's  nothing !"  Then  she  looks  at  me 
with  them  big  eyes  and  says,  "I  believe  your  a  'ero, 
only  you're  modest, — that's  wot's  the  matter  with  you, 
your  modest."  And  she  give  me  'and  another  pinch. 
Then  she  went  on  and  told  me  'ow  she  admires  a  manly 
man, — a  man  that  wasn't  afraid  of  nobody.  Wot  are 
you  laughing  at?  Now  don't  you  go,  Ted.  I  ain't  got 
to  it  yet. 

TED 
Well  'urry  up — my  bike's  waiting. 

'£RB 

Well,  you  know  wot  I  am  with  the  ladies,  Ted.  I  told 
'er  the  tale  a  bit — you  know — things  I'd  done — men 
I'd  beat— 

TED 
You  couldn't  beat  a  carpet. 

'£RB 

[Ignoring  the  remark] 

Well,  she's  coming  'ere  today,  Ted!  [Pointing  to  the 
gloves.]  I  borrowed  these  boxing-gloves  just  to  im 
press  'er,  and,  as  a  pal,  Ted,  I  want  you  to  stay  and, 
just  casual-like,  make  up  a  few  things  wot  I've  done. 

TED 

[In  amazement] 
Wot  'ave  you  done? 

'£RB 

That's  neither  'ere  nor  there.    Just  make  'em  up. 

[82] 


TED 

[Blankly] 
Make  wot  up? 

'ERB 
Tell  'er  wot  a  'ero  I  am  —  'ow  I  ain't  afraid  of  nothing. 

TED 
That's  the  only  thing  you  ain't  afraid  of. 

'ERB 

[Ignoring  the  interruption] 

For  instance  —  just  as  I'm  'anding  'er  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
she  and  me  is  laughing  and  'olding  'ands,  you,  casual- 
like,  says,  "That  reminds  me  of  the  time,  'Erb,  when 
you  thrashed  that  big  fisherman  down  at  Ramsgate,  for 
breaking  that  little  kid's  spade  on  the  beach." 

TED 

But  you  broke  the  kid's  spade,  and  the  fisherman  nearly 
kill— 

'ERB 

[Quickly] 
Just  twist  it  round.    Needn't  go  into  details. 

TED 
Wot  do  I  get  out  of  it? 


[In  an  off-hand  manner] 
I  wouldn't  insult  you  by  offering  you  anything,  Ted. 

TED 
Well,  so  long! 

[83] 


'ERB 

'Ow  much  do  you  want? 

TED 

Give  me  that  silver  cigarette-case  you  won  at  the 
whist-drive. 

'ERB 

[Earnestly] 
I  would  gladly,  Ted,  but — I've  lost  it. 

TED 
Well,  so  lo— 

'ERB 

All  right  I'll  give  it  yer.  Now  as  a  pal,  Ted,  you'll  see 
me  through?  Now  yer  understand?  All  you've  got 
to  do,  is  to  make  me  out  a  'ero. 

TED 

[With  sudden  inspiration] 
I'll  tell  'er  you're  Dick  Turpin ! 

'ERB 

Don't  tell  'er  I'm  anything.  Just  tell  'er  all  the  brave 
deeds  wot  I've  done. 

TED 
Righto!  Give  us  your  cigarette-case. 

'ERB 
After  she's  gone. 

TED 
I'd  rather  'ave  it  now,  you  might  forget. 

'ERB 
You  are  'ard-'earted. 

[84] 


TED 

You  are  'ard-'anded. 

['£RB  hands  him  the  cigarette-case,  first  carefully  tak 
ing  out  a  dilapidated  cigarette.  A  distant  clock 
strikes  four.] 

'£RB 

[All  of  a  flutter] 

She's  due  'ere  now.  [He  rushes  to  the  mirror.]  'Ow 
do  I  look,  Ted?  Wot  do  you  think  of  my  tie?  And 
my  'air,  —  look  at  my  'air! 

TED 
"Two-in-One"— 

'£RB 

Oh,  I  nearly  forgot  !  Listen,  Ted  ;  slip  across  the  road 
and  get  three  threepenny  cigars. 

TED 

[In  amazement] 

You  ain't  'arf  coming  out  of  your  shell!  Three 
pennies? 


Yes,  three  pennies.  [With  a  lordly  air.}  Want  to  do 
the  thing  proper.  And  ask  'em  to  give  you  an  empty 
box  to  put  them  in.  [He  gives  TED  a  shilling  and 
bustles  him  out.  He  again  surveys  himself  in  the 
glass;  puts  on  the  boxing-gloves,  and  is  just  beginning 
to  shape  up,  when  CYNTHIA  enters.] 

CYNTHIA 

Your  cousin's  outside.  She's  asking  for  'Erbert,  — 
don't  seem  to  know  your  other  name. 

[851 


'£RB 

[With  kingly  air] 
Ask  'er  in  'ere,  my  girl. 

[There  is  a  slight  pause,  and  NANCY  appears  on  the 
threshold.  She  is  a  pretty  little  flapper  of  about 
eighteen, — very  pert,  and  for  her  class  is  dressed 
rather  modestly.  Her  outstanding  features  are  big 
trustful  eyes.} 

NANCY 
[Quietly] 
How  do  you  do? 

'£RB 

'Ow  do  you  do?  [There  is  a  long  pause;  neither  of 
them  moves.  At  last,  in  approved  shop-walker  style.] 
Step  this  way,  please.  [He  indicates  the  couch t  and 
she  sits.] 

NANCY 

What's  the  matter  with  your  hand?  [In  delight.] 
Why,  it's  a  boxing-glove.  Have  you  been  boxing? 

'£RB 

Well — not  exactly — boxing.  [Getting  his  second  wind.] 
You  see — when  I  won  the  championship  my  trainer 
made  me  promise  to  put  'em  on  once  every  day,  to 
remember  him  by — [Finishes  lamely.]  Silly — wasn't 
it? 

NANCY 

Silly!  [With  enthusiasm.]  I  think  it's  splendid!  And 
are  those  the  gloves  you  won  the  championship  with? 

'£RB 

Yes — [hesitating]  the  same — gloves. 

[86] 


NANCY 
[Eagerly] 
And  is  the  blood  still  on  them? 

'ERB 

[Looking  at  them  doubtfully] 
No,  I  washed  'em. 

NANCY 

And  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  part  with  them  for  any 
thing  in  the  world? 

J£RB 

[Casually] 
I  'ad  thought  of  giving  them  to  the  Museum. 

NANCY 

[Romantically] 

I  always  dreamed  that  one  day  I  should  meet  a  man 
like  you — a  man  without  fear — whose  motto  is,  "A 
word  and  a  blow." 

'ERB 

[Modestly] 
Only  in  defence  of  the  weak. 

NANCY 

Of  course.  Last  night,  when  I  got  home  I  was  think 
ing  of  all  the  things  you'd  told  me.  Tell  me,  how  did 
you  feel  when  you  had  that  great  bully  on  his  knees 
crying  for  mercy? 

'ERB 

[Noncommittal] 

Just  ordinary — you  get  used  to  it.  But  I've  done  with 
fighting  now,  Miss  Price. 

[87] 


NANCY 
Last  night  you  called  me  Nancy. 

'£RB 
[Coyly] 

Nancy ! — As  I  says,  I've  done  with  fighting  now.  All 
I  want  is  a  nice  little  'ome,  and  a  nice  little — [During 
the  last  part  of  the  speech  TED  has  entered.} 

TED 

[Pointing  at  them  playfully] 
I  caught  yer ! 

'£RB 

[Rushing  over  to  him] 
If  it  ain't  my  old  college  chum,  Ted  'Arris! 
[TED  looks  in  blank  amazement.    '£RB  grips  his  hand 
and  shakes  it  vigorously.] 

'£RB 
Well,  who'd  V  thought  of  seeing  you! 

TED 

[Blankly] 

Why — you  just  sent  me  out.  'Ere's  your  cigars,  ancl 
I've  got  a  box  to  put  'em  in, — threepence  change. 

'£RB 

An*  'e's  brought  me  a  nice  little  present.  Thank  you, 
Ted.  [He  looks  at  NANCY.]  Allow  me  to  introduce 
you  to  my  old  college  chum,  Mr.  Ted  'Arris.  [TED 
comes  down  stage  and  stands  next  to  NANCY.]  Miss 
Nancy  Price,— Mr.  Ted  'Arris:  Mr.  Ted  'Arris  — 
Miss  Nancy  Price. 

[88] 


[NANCY  puts  out  her  hand,  TED  doesn't  see  it.  She 
withdraws  it.  TED  sees  this,  and  puts  out  his.  As 
her  hand  is  gone,  he  withdraws  his.  Eventually  they 
shake  hands.] 

NANCY 

[Looking  into  TED'S  eyes  with  a  sweet  smile] 
Glad  to  meet  you. 

TED 

[Gazing  into  her  eyes} 
Same  'ere.     [There  is  an  awkward  pause] 

NANCY 

[Still  looking  into  his  eyes] 
It's  been  a  nice  day. 

TED 
'As  it?     [Another  pause.} 

'£RB 

[Cheerfully] 

Yes — Ted  and  me's  been  chums  for  a  long  time  now, 
ain't  we,  Ted? 

TED 

[Still  looking  at  NANCY] 
Nigh  on  a  year  now.     [Another  pause.] 

'£RB 

Come  and  sit  down  over  'ere,  Ted.  [Indicating  the 
chair  farthest  away  from  NANCY.  NANCY  sits  on  the 
couch,  and  pats  the  vacant  seat.  TED  looks  at  'ERB — 
smiles — and  sits  down  beside  her.  Another  awkward 
pause.]  Yes,  we've  been  good  chums,  and  we've  'ad 
some  adventures,  eh,  Ted? 

[89] 


TED 

[Noncommittal] 
Not  'arf !    [He  never  takes  his  eyes  off  NANCY.] 

'£RB 

[With  enthusiasm] 
I'll  never  forget  that  fisherman  at  Ramsgate — 'Ee 

TED 

[Paying  no  attention  to  him] 
You  ain't  been  in  London  long,  'ave  you,  Miss  Price? 

'£RB 
But  I  never  could  stand  brutality — 

NANCY 
[Coyly] 
Only  about  eighteen  months,  Mr.  'Arris. 

'£RB 

[With  less  vigour] 

To  see  'im  'it  that  kid  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood 
could  stand — 

TED 

[To  NANCY] 
What  part  do  you  come  from? 

'ERB 

I  made  one  rush  at  'im — 

NANCY 
Reading — ever  been  there? 

'ERB 
And  with  a  swift  upper-cut — 

[90] 


TED 
Can't  say  I  have. 

'ERB 

[Finishing  lamely] 
'Ee  went  down — such  a  wop. 

TED 

[Pulling  himself  together] 
Who  did? 

'ERB 

That  fisherman  at  Ramsgate.  Don't  yor  remember 
Ted — don't  yor  remember,  Ted?  [He  winks  violently 
at  TED.  TED  glances  at  NANCY.  She  smiles  sweetly 
at  him.] 

TED 
No,  I'mblowed  if  I  do! 

'ERB 

[In  an  undertone] 
Give  me  back  that  cigarette-case. 

TED 
You  gave  it  to  me. 

'ERB 
Yes,  I  gave  it  you  for — 

TED 

[With  a  broad  smile] 
For  what? 

'ERB 

[Quickly] 

Let's  all  'ave  some  tea.  Now  you  sit  'ere,  Ted  [indi 
cating  a  chair  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table]  and, 
Nancy,  you  sit  'ere  next  to  me — and — 

[91] 


NANCY 

[In  a  superior  manner] 

When  we  have  friends  at  home  in  the  drawing  room, 
tea  is  handed  round. 

[During  this  speech  TED  has  risen  and  is  centre.  He 
runs  quickly  back  to  the  sofa,  and  sits  on  the  other 
side  of  NANCY,  leaving  NANCY'S  back  to  'ERB.] 

NANCY 
Did  you  ever  see  'Erb  box? 

TED 

[Off-handedly] 

Oh  yes,  'ee  ain't  bad,  but  'ee  ain't  in  the  same  class 
with  me. 

NANCY 
[Delighted] 
Do  you  box  too? 

'ERB 
'Ee  don't  do  much. 

TED 
Who  don't? 

'ERB 

[Winking] 
You  don't. 

TED 

Don't  I  ?    Who  was  it  that  saved  you  from  the  paper 
boy  just  outside  the  shop — who — 

'ERB 

[Rushing  over  with  a  cup] 

'Ere's  your  tea,  Nancy.     [He  has  left  TED'S  tea  on  the 
far  side  of  the  table,  and  stands  ready  to  take  TED'S 

[92] 


seat  next  to  NANCY  as  soon  as  he  goes  to  get  it.] 
There's  [pointing]  your  tea,  Ted. 

TED 

[With  a  look  at  NANCY] 
Well,  'and  it  over. 

'£RB 

[In  a  fierce  whisper] 
Give  me  back  that  cigarette-case. 

TED 

[Ignoring  him] 

Yes,  Miss  Price,  as  I'm  always  telling  'Erb,  every  man 
should  know  how  to — 

'ERB 

Cake?  [He  offers  the  plate  to  NANCY,  who  takes  one. 
TED  also  grabs  one.] 

NANCY 
Thank  you. 

TED 
Yes,  thank  yer. 

'ERB 

Wouldn't  you  rather  sit  in  the  armchair,  Nancy — it's 
more  comfortable? 

NANCY 

[Looking  up  at  TED] 

I'm  very  happy  here.  [TED,  who  has  been  eating  cake, 
gives  a  playful  giggle,  and  many  crumbs  fall  out  of 
his  mouth.] 

[93] 


'£RB 

[Seising  the  opportunity] 

Ted  never  could  manage  his  crumbs  very  well.  [He 
makes  another  desperate  effort.]  Do  you  know,  some 
how,  we  three,  sitting  'ere  together,  reminds  me  of  the 
day  I  won  the  Championship.  [Gravely.]  I  shall 
never  forget  it. 

TED 
I'm  sure. 

NANCY 
Oh,  do  tell  us. 

TED 
Yes  —  do  tell  us. 


[Warming  up  to  his  work  again] 

I'd  just  stepped  into  the  ring,  and  before  the  cheering 
had  stopped,  my  trainer  come  over  to  me,  and  'ee 
says  —  [CYNTHIA  enters.] 

CYNTHIA 

There's  a  man  out  'ere,  says  'ee's  called  for  the  boxing- 
gloves  'ee  lent  yer  for  the  afternoon. 

'£RB 

[With  a  sickly  smile] 
Boxing-gloves  —  what  boxing-gloves  ? 

TED 
You  know,  —  the  ones  you  won  the  Championship  with. 

'£RB 

Oh  yes,  'ee  means  'ee  wants  to  borrer  them.  I'll  just 
go  out  and  see  'im.  Will  you  excuse  me  for  a  minute  ? 

[94] 


[Exit   '£RB.     TED  and   NANCY   look   coyly   at   each 
other.] 

TED 

[In  his  best  dare-devil  manner} 

You  ain't  'arf  a  one !     [He  gives  her  a  playful  tap  on 
the  arm.} 

NANCY 
[Coyly] 
Now  go  on ! 

[She  returns  his  slap  a  little  harder.  He  gives  her 
another  playful  tap.  She  replies  with  a  hard  push 
which  knocks  him  off  the  couch.  Before  he  can 
recover  himself  '£RB  has  entered  and  sits  quickly  in 
his  seat.  TED  wedges  himself  in  on  the  other  side 
of  NANCY,  and  the  three  are  sitting  in  very  cramped 
positions. } 

'£RB 

[With  hidden  meaning] 
Your  bike's  waiting,  Ted. 

TED 

[Sullenly] 
Well,  let  it  wait! 

'£RB 
Ain't  you  going  for  a  ride? 

TED 

[With  decision] 
No,  I  ain't.    [Pause.] 

'£RB 

Won't  you  'ave  a  cigar,  Ted?     There's  one  on  the 
table.     [He  tries  to  entice  TED  to  get  them.] 

[95] 


NANCY 

Let  me  get  you  one.  [She  jumps  up  and  goes  to 
the  table,  and  picks  up  the  box.]  Why,  they're  Corona 
Coronas  !  They're  the  kind  that  father  smokes.  [She 
brings  over  the  box,  and  hands  it  to  TED  and  '£RB,  who 
each  take  a  cigar.]  Wait  a  minute,  I'll  get  you  a  light. 
[She  turns  up  stage  to  the  mantelpiece.] 

'ERB 

[With  a  murderous  look  and  in  a  hoarse  whisper] 
Give  me  back  that  cigarette-case.     [NANCY  lights  the 
cigars.     Neither  of  the  men  has  attempted  to  vacate 
his  position  on  the  couch.] 

'£RB 

Come  and  sit  down  'ere,  Nancy.     [He  indicates  about 
three  inches  of  seat  on  his  left.] 

NANCY 

[Perkily] 

There  isn't  room.    [She  goes  and  sits  right  of  the  table-  ] 


Ted'll  make  room  for  you,  won't  you,  Ted? 

TED 
[Seeing  that  NANCY  is  seated  on  the  opposite  side 

of  the  room] 
With  pleasure. 
[He  goes  over  and  sits  on  a  chair  next  to  NANCY 

leaving  '£RB  alone  on  the  couch.     '£RB  looks  ready 

to  burst  into  tears.] 

[96] 


NANCY 

I  suppose  you  boys  have  had  a  lot  of  adventures  to 
gether. 

TED 

['ERB  gives  TED  a  last  pleading  look] 
Oh  yes,  when  we  was  at  Eton  and  Oxford  together. 

'ERB 

[Correcting  him] 

Oxford  and  Cambridge,  Ted — Oxford  and  Cam 
bridge!  Ah!  them  was  'appy  days!  That  reminds 
me —  [He  is  about  to  go  off  into  another  recital.] 

NANCY 
[Quickly] 

There's  something  burning!  [She  begins  to  sniff. 
TED  hides  his  cigar.  To  '£RB.]  I  believe  it's  your 
cigar!  [She  takes  it  out  of  his  mouth  and  examines 
the  band.]  Why,  that  isn't  a  Corona  Corona — it's  a 
— tuppenny!  [She  goes  to  the  fireplace  and  drops  it 
into  the  grate.] 

'ERB 

[With  a  sudden  dawning} 

Tuppenny!  [He  fixes  TED  with  a  cold  stare.  TED 
tries  to  look  unconcerned.]  'Ere,  'and  me  over  the 
change. 

TED 

[Defiantly] 
What  change? 

'ERB 

[Losing  control  of  himself] 
'Ere,  you  get  outside — this  is  my  'ouse. 

[97] 


TED 
Easy,  my  lad — you  ain't  talking  to  a  fisherman  now. 

'£RB 
Ho! 

TED 

No!  Nor  winning  championships.  [He  turns  to 
NANCY.]  Why,  Miss  Price,  if  I  told  you  'arf  the 
things  I'd  done,  you  wouldn't  believe  it. 

'£RB 

[With  feeling] 
No,  she  wouldn't! 

TED 

[Losing  his  temper] 

Wot  do  you  mean?  Didn't  I  save  you  from  the  kid's 
mother,  when  you  tried  to  take  'is  fishing-rod  away? 

'£RB 

[Almost  crying] 

No,  you  didn't.  Didn't  I  jump  into  the  water  to  save 
a  poor  girl  from  drowning? 

TED 

And  didn't  I  'ave  to  jump  in  and  save  you  both?  Who 
saved  you  from  that  navvy,  when  you  was  bullying 
that  little  kid? 

'£RB 

You  didn't.  And  ain't  I  the  best  fighter  in  the  shops? 
And  ain't  I  taught  you  all  I  know? 

TED 

[Raising  his  voice] 
And  ain't  I— 

[98] 


NANCY 
[Soothingly] 

Now,  boys,  don't  quarrel  with  each  other,  [slowly  and 
with  meaning]  because  you  will  both  need  all  your 
courage  and  skill  this  afternoon. 

TED 

[Calming  down] 
Eh,  what! 

'£RB 

[Taking  his  tone] 
'Ow's  that? 

NANCY 

You  remember,  Herbert,  I  told  you  I  didn't  admire 
anyone  who  wasn't  a  righting  man?  Well,  now  you 
boys  have  both  proved  to  me  that  you  are  more  than 
able  to  take  care  of  yourselves.  I'll  tell  you  why.  Well, 
it  isn't  because  I  like  fighting — I  hate  it;  but  I  was 
once  engaged  to  a  great  big  burly  brute  of  a  man. 
[  With  a  shudder.  ]  It  was  only  his  strength  which  ap 
pealed  to  me.  Since  I  broke  it  off,  he  has  been  watch 
ing  me,  and  if  he  sees  me  out  with  a  boy,  he  waylays 
him  and  nearly  kills  him.  ['£RB  swallows  a  lump  in 
his  throat.  TED  tries  to  speak,  but  finds  his  collar  has 
got  too  tight.]  When  I  think  of  that  poor  bank  clerk 
only  able  to  eat  bread  and  milk  for  three  weeks ! 

TED 

[With  feeling} 
Poor  fellow! 

[99] 


'ERB 

[In  a  faltering  voice] 
'Ow  old — I  mean  'ow  big  is  'ee? 

NANCY 

Oh,  not  more  than  six  foot,  but  as  strong  as  a  lion. 
[Sweetly.]     But  then,  of  course,  he  hasn't  your  skill. 

'ERB 

That's  an  'elp. 

TED 
What — what's — 'is  name? 

NANCY 

Bill. 

TED 

[With  a  shudder] 
What  a  nasty  name. 

NANCY 
[Cheerfully] 

Do  you  know,  he  once  walked  to  Leeds  to  fight  a  man 
he  heard  was  sweet  on  me. 

'ERB 
[Feebly] 
Did— did  'ee  find  'im? 

NANCY 
No,  but  he  nearly  killed  a  policeman  on  the  way  back. 

'ERB 

[With  a  ray  of  hope] 
Perhaps  we  shan't  meet  'im. 

[100] 


NANCY 

Oh  yes,  you  will.  ['£RB  and  TED  exchange  a  frightened 
look.]  There's  no  escape  from  him.  I  sent  him  a  note 
today,  telling  him  I  should  be  here  with  a  nice  boy  at 
4.30.  [With  a  little  laugh.]  Round  he'll  come  like  a 
mad  bull,  but  it  will  be  his  turn  to  go  through  it  now. 

'£RB 

[Trying  to  smile] 

Yes,  I  don't  suppose  there'll  be  much  of  him  left  by 
the  time  Ted's  done  with  'im. 

TED 

[Quickly] 
'Erb'll  show  'im  a  thing  or  two. 

'£RB 

[In  a  frightened  whisper] 
What — time — is  it — now? 

NANCY 

[Looking  at  her  wrist-watch] 
Just  4.30. 

[There  is  a  long  pause  and  the  distant  clock  chimes 
the  half -hour.] 

TED 

'Ere,  let  go  of  me. 

[He  tries  to  push  '£RB  away,  who  is  holding  on  to  his 
coat,  and  make  for  the  door.  '£RB  clings  on  des 
perately.] 

NANCY 
[To  TED] 
Don't  spare  him. 

[101] 


TED 

[To  '£RB] 
No,  don't  spare'  im. 

'£RB 

[Frantically] 

I'll  let  you  'ave  'im,  Ted,  just  for  old  times'  sake.  You 
know  I  ain't  in  your  class.  [TED  tries  to  get  to  the 
door,  but  '£RB  is  clinging  on  to  him — TED  pushing  him 
off.] 

TED 

But  you  won  the  Championship.  [Desperately.]  'Ere, 
let  me  go ! 

'£RB 

[Pleading] 
As  a  pal,  Ted — as  a  pal. 

TED 
Let  me  go,  I  say— I've  got  an  appointment. 

'ERB 

I'll  come  with  you. 

TED 

[Still  struggling  to  get  away] 
You  can't — I'm  going  on  my  bike. 

'ERB 

I'll  come  on  the  step. 

NANCY 

[To  TED,  with  dignity] 
You're  not  afraid,  are  you? 

[102] 


TED 

Afraid!  [Throwing  out  his  chest  and  indicating  'ERB.] 
'Erb  afraid!  You  do  'im  a  wrong,  Miss  Price.  Why, 
'ee's  afraid  of  what  'ee'll  do  to  this  Bill  when  'ee  gets 
hold  of  'im.  'Ee  don't  know  'is  own  strength,  does 
our  'Erb.  Why,  if  you'd  seen  'im  'it  that  fisherman — 
[There  is  a  loud  bang  on  the  street  door.  TED  gives 
'ERB  a  violent  push  and  rushes  out  of  the  room  like  a 
frightened  rabbit.]  So  long! 

['£RB  is  the  picture  of  indecision  and  fear.  His  eyes 
search  the  room  for  the  most  formidable  weapon. 
He  seises  the  poker.  There  is  another  loud  knock 
at  the  door.  '£RB  nearly  jumps  out  of  his  skin.  He 
barricades  the  door  with  the  table,  and  piles  the  arm- 
chair  on  the  top  of  it.  NANCY  looks  on  in  amaze 
ment.  He  again  seizes  the  poker  and  stands  at  bay 
behind  the  couch,  the  very  acme  of  fear.] 

NANCY 

[Looking  at  the  poker  in  '£RB'S  trembling  hand] 
What's  that  for? 

'ERB 
'Ee  might  be  armed. 

NANCY 
Who? 

'ERB 
Bill. 

NANCY 
What  Bill? 

[103] 


'ERB 

[Feebly] 
Just  Bill. 

NANCY 
Why,  there  ain't  no  Bill.     [She  smiles.] 

'ERB 

[Hardly   able   to   believe  his   ears] 
There  ain't  no  Bill? 

NANCY 

No,  I  just  made  that  up  to  get  rid  of  that  swank-pot 
of  a  friend  of  yours. 


[Losing  a  little  of  his  fear] 
And  there  ain't  no  Bill  at  all? 

NANCY 
Of  course  not. 

'ERB 

[A  little  bolder] 
And  'ee  don't  walk  to  Leeds  to  fight  people? 

NANCY 
Of  course  not. 

'£RB 

[StUl  bolder] 
Nor  kill  policemen  ? 

NANCY 
I  tell  you,  there  isn't  any  Bill. 


[Striking  an  heroic  attitude] 
It's  a  damned  good  job  there  ain't! 

[104] 


NANCY 
Why? 

'£RB 

[With  a  murderous  look] 
'Cause  if  I'd  'a'  give  'im  one  punch — 

NANCY 
Oh,  'Erb! 

J£RB 

[In  a  Napoleonic  voice] 

'Ave  no  fear.     I  only  raises  my  'and  in  defence  of 
the  weak. 

[QUICK  CURTAIN] 


LEAVE  THE  WOMAN  OUT 

IN    COLLABORATION    WITH 

CHARLES  KING 


[ORIGINAL  CAST] 

RICHARD  DOYLE  Mr.  Charles  King 

J.  K.  RAIKE  Mr.  Leon  Gordon 

THE  FIRST  MAN  Mr.  Charles  Weymes 


LEAVE  THE  WOMAN  OUT 


SCENE 

DOYLE'S  study,  workroom,  library — what  you  will,  it  is 
a  little  of  each.  The  most  striking  objects  in  the 
room  are  the  big  solid  safe  on  a  pedestal  set  against 
the  left-hand  side  of  the  room,  and  the  clock  whose 
hands  can  almost  be  seen  to  move. 

Straight  ahead  of  the  spectator  is  a  bay-window  set  in 
a  deep  recess,  in  which  is  a  table  covered  with  a 
microscope  or  two  and  their  impedimenta. 

The  fire  throws  a  strong  red  glow  right  across  the 
darkened  room.  The  only  door  is  on  the  left.  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  is  a  table,  on  which  are 
familiar  objects  such  as  go  to  make  a  whiskey  and 
soda,  and  also  a  rather  murderous-looking  paper- 
knife. 

The  walls  are  lined  with  volumes — not  Morocco- 
bound  classics,  but  dull-looking  works  of  reference 
and  an  immense  number  of  files. 

A  massive  bureau,  with  a  telephone  standing  upon  it, 
completes  the  list  of  essential  details.  For  the  rest, 
the  room  is  in  some  disorder,  the  fireplace  being 
littered  with  scraps  of  paper.  Boots,  golf -clubs, 
fishing-rods,  are  heaped  in  the  corner. 

RICHARD  DOYLE,  a  sharp-faced,  keen-looking  man  of 
about  forty-five,  is  sitting  by  the  fire,  with  its  red 
glow  full  on  his  face.  The  telephone  bell  rings.  He 
has  evidently  been  expecting  it,  for  he  springs  up 
immediately  and  takes  the  receiver. 

[109] 


DOYLE 

Hullo!  Is  that  you,  Harding?  Any  news?  [His 
tone  changes.]  What!  Oh,  our  friend  left  the  house 
party  just  now  with  two  men  in  the  car.  Did  he? 
Coming  in  this  direction?  Yes,  I'm  expecting  him! 
[Quietly.]  Yes,  it's  all  up  with  him  now — there's  a 
woman  in  the  case!  I  broke  into  his  flat  yesterday, 
as  neatly  as  he  could  have  done,  and  came  across  a 
most  interesting  document — a  love  letter  from  a  lady 
— a  lady  so  much  admired  that  I'm  afraid  her  reputa 
tion  will  suffer  somewhat.  Can't  help  that.  Gives 
him  away  completely,  and  proves  his  identity  beyond 
dispute.  He'll  run  any  mad  and  foolish  risk  to  re 
cover  it.  Yes,  he  knows  I've  got  it.  What?  Yes 
I'm  quite  alone.  Don't  you  worry,  I'll  take  care  of 
myself.  [There  is  a  flash  of  light  across  the  window. 
He  picks  up  a  small  mirror  and  brings  it  to  bear  on 
the  window  behind  him.]  By  the  way,  warn  the  local 
police  for  me.  Goodnight.  Go  to  bed.  [He  goes  out 
quietly.  Almost  immediately  there  is  a  tinkle  of  glass, 
the  window  is  opened  and  a  man  comes  through  with 
a  flash-lamp  on  his  stick.  The  curtains  show  there  is 
a  strong  wind  outside.  He  makes  quickly  for  the  door. 
The  second  man  comes  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
room,  looks  round,  and  takes  the  third  man's  place  at 
the  window  as  he  comes  down.  He  carries  a  bag  and 
strapped  on  his  head  is  a  band  carrying  an  electric 
torch.  He  utters  one  word  sharply,  "Search!"  They 
dive  into  the  bureau,  etc.  He  flashes  his  lamp  on  the 
safe,  switches  his  head-light  on,  takes  out  a  drill  from 
his  bag,  sets  the  coil  and  begins  drilling,  a  shower  of 

[no] 


sparks  surrounding  him.    He  pauses  a  second,  and  the 

telephone  bell  rings,  startling  them  all.] 

THE  MAN 

Why  wasn't  that  cut !  [He  gathers  up  his  tools.]  Get! 
I'll  keep  Doyle  here  ten  minutes.  [He  takes  them  by 
the  arm  enforcing  his  words  upon  them.]  You've 
got  plans  of  his  room  upstairs.  Search — Search — 
Search!  If  you  get  the  letter,  show-a-light-at-the- 
window,  so  that  I,  and  I  only,  can  see  it. 

THE  FIRST  MAN 

[As  he  scrambles  through  the  window] 
But,  Raike,  think  of  the  risk!    If  Doyle  should  recog 
nize  you ! 

THE  MAN 

It's  life  or  death — and  more.  Get! 
[They  go  out  quickly  by  the  window.  The  MAN  de 
liberately  throws  over  a  chair.  In  a  second  the 
lights  go  up,  and  DOYLE  is  standing  by  the  switch 
with  a  revolver.  He  is  confronted  apparently  by  a 
broken-down,  seedy-looking  individual  of  about  fifty. 
Shabby,  dirty,  and  at  the  moment  terror-stricken.] 

DOYLE 
Stop  !  !    Keep  your  hands  away  from  your  pockets — 

THE  MAN 
Don't  shoot,  guv'nor !  !    For  Gawd's  sake,  don't  shoot ! 

DOYLE 

Just  as  you  like — but  keep  your  hands  away  from  your 
pockets.  Mi — Mister — what  is  the  name? 

[in] 


THE  MAN 
Bates,  sir — William  Bates. 

DOYLE 

Then  keep  your  hands  away  from  your  pockets — Mr. 
William  Bates.  Now  don't  think  I  wish  to  presume 
on  so  short  an  acquaintanceship,  but  would  you  mind 
telling  me  what  you  are  doing  in  my  house? 

BATES 
I  was  starving,  sir — 

DOYLE 
And  you  mistook  my  house  for  a  hotel,  eh? 

BATES 

If  you  please,  sir — would  you  mind  not  pointing  that 
there  thing  at  me.  It  might  go  orf. 

DOYLE 

Would  you  mind  turning  out  your  right-hand  pocket. 
[BATES  turns  it  out  quickly.]  Now  the  other  one, 
please!  Come  along!  ! 

BATES 

All  right,  sir;  all  right — there  ain't  nothing.  [He  turns 
it  out.] 

DOYLE 
[Politely] 

Ah !  Now  sit  down,  Mr.  Bates,  sit  down.  Make  your 
self  at  home.  [He  waves  his  hand,  with  the  revolver, 
to  a  chair  by  the  table.  MR.  BATES  takes  it  hurriedly 
and  sits  down  nervously  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the 
chair.]  That's  right — I  hope  you're  as  comfortable  as 
you  look — now  before  I  send  for  the  police — 

[112] 


BATES 
The  perlice  !  ! 

DOYLE 

Exactly.  People  in  blue,  who  usually  arrive  when  the 
row  is  all  over.  Can  you  show  me  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  send  for  the  police? 

BATES 
Yes,  sir,  I  don't  like  'em. 

DOYLE 

Well,  I'm  only  delaying  the  event  out  of  personal  in 
terest.  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Bates,  but  your  attempted 
burglary  was  so  appallingly  amateurish  that  you  in 
terest  me  vastly.  Why,  for  instance,  didn't  you  lock 
the  door  before  commencing  operations?  The  veriest 
beginner  knows  that. 

BATES 
[Sullenly] 
I  am  a  beginner. 

DOYLE 

Really — your  first  attempt?  You're  very  ambitious. 
Even  the  oldest  hands  think  several  times  before  tack 
ling  Richard  Doyle. 

BATES 

What  !  !  Are  you  Richard  Doyle?  The  great  "Tec" 
— Oh  my  Gawd! 

DOYLE 
Oh,  you  didn't  know  that  when  you  came? 

BATES 
No. 

DOYLE 
That's  very  disappointing. 


BATES 
[Pleading] 

I  ain't  a  burglar  at  all,  Mr.  Doyle.  I  know  I've  no 
right  here,  sir,  but  I  was  starving,  it  was  only  a  meal 
I  wanted. 

DOYLE 

[Lighting  his  pipe] 
I'll  see  you  get  well  looked  after  soon. 

BATES 
[Desperately] 

Give  me  a  job,  sir,  and  you'll  see  I'm  speaking  the 
truth. 

DOYLE 

A  job?  This  is  very  unusual,  Mr.  Bates, — a  burglar 
wanting  a  job  at  3  in  the  morning.  Tell  me,  what  can 
you  do? 

BATES 
[Eagerly] 
I  can  do  for  you — 

DOYLE 
What! 

BATES 
Do  for  you — valet  you,  sir — 

DOYLE 

Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  mistook  your  meaning. 
That's  excellent,  Bates.  Because  the  man  who  usually 
looks  after  me  left  me  only  two  days  ago — 

BATES 
Yes,  I  know — 

DOYLE 
[In  a  flash] 

How  do  you  know? 


BATES 
[Mildly] 
You've  just  said  so,  sir. 

DOYLE 

H'm.  Allow  me  to  remove  your  hat.  [He  examines 
BATES'  old  cap  and  then  its  owner.]  Well  now,  Mr. 
Bates,  if  you've  been  a  man-servant — let's  see  what 
you  can  make  of  this  room,  it's  in  a  dreadful  state 
since  my  man  was  enticed  away — I  mean,  left  me  with 
out  warning.  Supposing,  for  instance — I  see  you  keep 
your  own  boots  very  clean — now,  start  on  mine  over 
there. 

BATES 

[Getting  up] 
Them  boots  over  there? 

DOYLE 

"Them  boots  over  there" — exactly.  If  you've  been  a 
man-servant  you'll  be  used  to  the  job,  won't  you — if. 

BATES 
Use  this  brush,  sir? 

DOYLE 

Yes,  come  along,  Mr.  Bates.  [BATES  sets  to  work  by 
breathing  vigorously  on  the  boot.] 

DOYLE 

Bravo,  Mr.  Bates,  that's  the  proper  spirit.  Ever  been 
in  the  dock  before,  Bates? 

BATES 
Yes,  sir — once. 

DOYLE 
When  was  that? 

BATES 
May  last.  Marylebone  Court. 

[US] 


DOYLE 

[Going  to  telephone] 
"May  last — Marylebone  Court" — 

BATES 
[Strongly] 

You  ain't  going  to  give  me  up,  sir? 

DOYLE 

Oh,  come,  Mr.  Bates ;  you've  taken  your  first  lesson  in 
burglary,  why  not  your  first  in  gaol? 

BATES 
Won't  you  listen  to  me,  sir — 

DOYLE 

Certainly — you  go  on  with  your  boots,  don't  mind  me. 
[At  telephone.]  Hullo!  Put  me  through  to  Scotland 
Yard,  please.  Yes,  Scotland.  [BATES  moves  quickly 
to  the  window.]  Now,  Mr.  Bates,  go  on  with  your 
boots — and  come  in.  [BATES  resumes  his  brushing.] 
Now,  whilst  we're  waiting,  I'm  all  attention. 

BATES 

My  master,  I  was  with  him  fer  ten  years,  sir,  then  he 
died. 

DOYLE 

Did  he,  that  was  very  tactless  of  him — [At  telephone.] 
Hullo!  !  Scotland  Yard?  It's  Mr.  Doyle  speaking, — 
Mr.  Doyle,  yes.  I  want  you  to  look  up  the  record  of 
one  Bates — yes,  William  Bates,  May  last,  Maryle 
bone,  convicted  of — of — [to  BATES]  what  was  it, 
Mr.  Bates? 

BATES 
Petty  larceny. 

[116] 


DOYLE 
[Through  the  telephone] 

Petty  larceny  it  was !  and  as  quickly  as  you  can,  please 
— the  gentleman's  waiting  for  the  answer — What? 
have  I  heard  any  news  of  the  cracksman?  Oh,  yes, 
when  I  get  him — [slowly]  as  I  shall  get  him — [to 
BATES]  go  on  with  your  boots,  Mr.  Bates — I  can 
promise  you  a  big  sensation.  Thank  you.  [Putting 
the  receiver  down.]  Now,  Mr.  Bates,  continue  your 
sad  story. 

BATES 

Well,  I  was  out  of  work,  sir,  and  the  wife  was  ill.  I 
went  out  day  after  day,  but  there  was  nothing  for  me. 
Then  I  went  to  a  gentleman  what  I  worked  for  before. 
They  showed  me  into  the  dining  room — there  was  a 
couple  of  sovereigns  on  the  mantelpiece — all  I  wanted 
to  save  us  both — I  couldn't  'elp  it.  I  took  'em.  They 
caught  me  and — now,  Mr.  Doyle,  give  me  a  chance, 
sir,  give  me  a  chance. 

DOYLE 

Come,  Mr.  Bates,  don't  give  way!  Remember  what  is 
due  to  your  position — you're  a  burglar,  remember  now 
— not  a  valet!  [He  picks  up  telephone  receiver.] 
Hullo,  yes? 

BATES 
[Wildly] 
You're  going  to  give  me  up — 

DOYLE 
Quiet  !  ! 

BATES 
You  are!     You're  going  to  give  me  up!     [Making  a 


dash  for  the  table  he  seizes  DOYLE'S  revolver  and 
points  it  at  him.}  Mr.  Doyle!  I'm  a  desperate  man. 
I  don't  want  to  do  you  no  'arm,  but  if  you  don't  come 
away  from  that  there  telephone  I  swear  to  Gawd  I'll 
put  a  bullet  through  yer! 

DOYLE 

You  can't.  It's  not  loaded.  [For  a  moment  BATES  is 
taken  aback,  and  in  the  instant  DOYLE  picks  a  small 
repeater  out  of  his  pocket.}  Now,  this  one  is  loaded! 
Drop  it — Mr.  Bates,  drop  it!  drop  it!  !  [BATES  puts 
it  down.]  That's  right.  No,  perhaps  you'd  better 
hand  it  over  here.  Yes,  come  along. 

DOYLE 

[BATES  hands  it  over.  DOYLE  takes  it  quickly.}  You 
shouldn't  take  my  word  for  all  these  things,  Mr.  Bates 
— yours  was  the  loaded  one — yes,  that  one.  Sit  down, 
Mr.  Bates,  sit  down.  [BATES  sinks  down  into  the 
chair  by  the  table.}  What's  that?  [At  telephone.} 
Oh!  "Convicted — six  weeks— first  offence."  Thank 
you,  that's  all  I  wanted  to  know.  [He  rings  off-} 
Come,  Mr.  Bates  [he  lays  his  hand  on  his  shoulder}, 
don't  give  way,  remember  what's  due  to  your  position, 
you're  a  valet  again  now — not  a  burglar. 

BATES 
You  mean,  sir — 

DOYLE 

I'll  give  you  another  chance  and  take  you  into  my 
service. 

BATES 
But,  sir— 

[118] 


DOYLE 
[Kindly] 

That's  all  right.  You've  made  a  very  good  beginning. 
[Picking  up  his  boots.]  Now,  Bates,  your  room  is  on 
the  top  floor,  have  your  supper  and  go  to  bed.  [As 
he  goes.}  Breakfast  at  eight-thirty,  Bates — and  there 
is  a  bathroom.  [He  goes  out.  The  moment  he  is  gone, 
BATES  springs  up;  in  a  second  his  hair,  overcoat,  etc., 
etc.,  have  disappeared,  leaving  a  keen,  youngish- 
looking  man  in  evening  dress.] 

RAIKE 

[As  he  goes  to  the  telephone] 

If  Jimmy  fails  to  find  that  letter — [He  cuts  the  tele 
phone  cord.  Then  he  goes  to  the  window.  He  speaks 
to  JIMMY  outside.]  Have  you  got  it?  Search  then 
until  you  do.  Leave  this  room  to  me.  You  know  the 
signal?  The  light  twice.  [The  man  shows  a  flash  on 
the  window  twice.]  That's  it.  [Comes  back,  turns  up 
the  rug  under  which  he  has  hidden  his  tools,  puts  on 
the  head  light,  picks  up  his  drill,  connects  it  to  the 
battery,  and  turns  out  the  light,  saying,  "Come  on,  you 
can't  stand  against  this,"  and  he  plies  the  drill  round 
the  lock,  the  sparks  flying  in  all  directions.  The  noise 
of  the  drill  prevents  his  hearing  the  window  softly 
open  and  DOYLE  corn-ing  through.  He  stands  in  the 
window  and  then  comes  quietly  down  until  he  can  be 
seen  in  the  red  glow  from  the  fire.  Seeing  the  cracks 
man  working  like  fury,  he  smiles  and  calmly  takes  a 
chair  and  watches.  It  is  finished.  The  heavy  door  of 
the  safe  is  wrenched  open.  With  an  exclamation  of 
joy  the  cracksman  puts  up  the  lights  and  turns  to  find 
DOYLE  regarding  him  gravely.] 

[119] 


DOYLE 
[Gently] 

Have  you  found  what  you  want?  [RAIKE  makes  a 
movement  and  in  a  second  DOYLE  is  on  his  feet  mean 
ing  business.]  Take  care,  you're  no  longer  the  harm 
less  Mr.  Bates,  and  I  shan't  have  the  same  hesitation 
over  shooting  you — don't  worry  yourself,  that  letter  lies 
where  neither  you  nor  anyone  but  myself  will  ever 
find  it,  and  tomorrow  the  world  will  be  amazed  at 
the  identity  of  its  J.  K.  Raike  with  the  elusive  author 
of  so  many  famous  robberies — 

RAIKE 
[Angrily] 

Don't  flatter  yourself,  the  letter  is  here,  I  know, 
and  my  men  can  find  anything — I  trained  them 
myself — 

DOYLE 
[Relaxing] 

Good!  We  shall  see.  Now  let's  have  a  look  at  each 
other.  H'm,  so  we  meet  at  last.  But  I  believe  I  am 
the  first  to  meet  you  in  your  true  capacity. 

RAIKE 

Yes,  you've  been  trying  to  meet  me  for  some  time. 
[Extending  his  hand.]  How  do  you  do? 

DOYLE 

And  now  I've  got  you  I'm  going  to  keep  you.  [Shak 
ing  his  hand  carefully,  ]  I  am  quite  well,  thank  you. 

RAIKE 
And  how  long  am  I  to  have  this  pleasure? 

[120] 


DOYLE 

I  should  say  my  friends  will  be  here  in  less  than  five 
minutes. 

RAIKE 
Friends  ?     A  little  supper  party  in  my  honour,  eh  ? 

DOYLE 
No,  an  escort  in  your  honour. 

RAIKE 
Police. 

DOYLE 

Police!  I  took  the  precaution  of  sending  for  them. 
[Pointing  to  telephone.]  I  keep  another  telephone  be 
sides  the  one  you  so  ingeniously  cut! 

RAIKE 
In  five  minutes,  you  said? 

DOYLE 
Hardly  that  now. 

RAIKE 

Now  look  here,  Doyle,  it's  not  for  myself  I'm  asking 
— It's  for  a  woman.  I  want  to  appeal  to  you  as  a  man, 
not  a  detective — 

DOYLE 
I'm  a  detective  only. 

RAIKE 
H'm,  that  won't  do— 

DOYLE 
Try  something  else — 

RAIKE 

Supposing  I  say  I'll  give  myself  up  if — [but  at  this 
moment  DOYLE'S  back  is  turned  to  the  window.  The 

[121] 


light  of  an  electric  torch  is  seen  to  flash  twice  outside. 
RAIKE  sees  it  and  he  regains  his  self-confidence.]  Now 
look  here,  Doyle — as  a  sportsman.  You  say  the  police 
will  be  here  in  four  minutes  ?  Well,  it's  now  four  minutes 
to  four.  I'll  bet  you  a  level  two  hundred  pounds  that  I 
leave  this  room  free,  and  have  that  particular  letter 
that  I  came  for — by  the  stroke  of  the  clock. 

DOYLE 

[Half  to  himself] 
Now  what's  the  little  game? 

RAIKE 
Is  it  a  bet? 

DOYLE 

As  a  sportsman  I'll  take  you.  £200  and  about — 
[looking  at  the  clock] — four  minutes  to  go!  [showing 
revolver]  Let's  sit  down  and  have  a  little  chat — we 
three. 

RAIKE 

Put  away  your  revolver  and  I'll  make  it  five  hundred 
pounds. 

DOYLE 
Five  hundred!     You  must  be  very  sure  of  yourself. 

RAIKE 
I  am. 

DOYLE 

So  am  I.  So  I'll  take  you — £500  and — less  than  four 
minutes  to  go.  [The  two  men  begin  to  watch  every 
movement  of  the  other.]  Have  a  drink.  [As  RAIKE 
reaches  for  decanter.]  No,  don't  trouble,  I'll  pour  it 
out!  [as  he  does  so]  a  decanter  is  too  much  like  a 
weapon.  I  have  to  be  careful. 

RAIKE 

Yes,  you're  naturally  suspicious,  I  suppose. 

[122] 


DOYLE 

Not  at  all.  Have  it  neat.  [As  RAIKE  takes  it,  his  hand 
slides  from  the  glass  on  to  the  table,  but  DOYLE  picks 
up  the  unpleasant-looking  paper-knife  just  in  time.] 
And  don't  be  childish  and  play  with  knives.  [He  takes 
that  and  the  decanter,  etc.,  away  and  lights  a  candle.] 
And  let  me  warn  you  not  to  revert  to  physical  force — 
I  happen  to  know  a  thing  or  two  about  that. 

RAIKE 
We  each  choose  our  own  methods. 

DOYLE 

[Having  lighted  a  candle] 

In  case  you  should  think  of  turning  out  the  lights. 
[Looking  at  the  clock.]  Time's  getting  on  very  nicely. 
My  friends  will  be  well  on  their  way  here  now.  Get 
ting  nervous? 

RAIKE 

Not  a  bit.  Are  you  ?  Ah,  I  forgot,  you're  not  a  man, 
you're  only  a  detective.  [They  are  sitting  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  table.] 

DOYLE 
I'm  afraid  you  are  inclined  to  be  sentimental. 

RAIKE 

[Lowering  his  voice] 
I  am.     And  I  thank  God  for  it,  my  cold-blooded  friend. 

DOYLE 

That's  why  you're  here  now ;  the  moment  I  knew  there 
was  a  woman  in  the  case  I  knew  there  was  no  hope 
for  you. 

RAIKE 

[Springing  up  and  making  for  window] 
We  shall  see. 

DOYLE 
[Strongly] 
The  window  is  closed — 

RAIKE 

[Turning  to  the  door] 
The  window  is  closed  ! 


DOYLE 
[Rising] 

And  the  door  is  locked ! 

RAIKE 
[Subsiding] 
And  the  door  is  locked. 

DOYLE 

Oh,  yes.  The  door's  locked — we're  quite  cosy  here. 
Sit  down.  [He  edges  round  behind  RAIKE,  then  goes 
quickly  to  the  door.]  At  least  the  door  wasn't  locked, 
but  the  door's  locked  now !  [But  he  turns  the  key 
backwards  instead  of  forwards  as  RAIKE  swings  round 
with  his  glass.  ]  Don't  trouble  to  throw  that ! ! ! 

RAIKE 

[Coolly  drinking] 
Good  health! 

DOYLE 

Cheer-O!  Have  a  cigarette— whilst  we  wait  for  the 
police? 

RAIKE 
Thanks !     [  DOYLE  hands  him  a  box.} 

DOYLE 

They're  your  own  brand — I  brought  a  few  from  your 
flat  yesterday  thinking  you  might  like  them. 

RAIKE 

[Tapping  the  cigarette] 
You  are  thoughtfulness  personified. 

DOYLE 
[Quietly] 

I  wonder  what  your  little  game  is — you  haven't  long 
for  it,  you  know — don't  trouble  to  feel  in  your  pockets 
for  a  match — use  mine.  [He  gives  him  a  light.  RAIKE 
takes  one  puff  and  seizes  DOYLE'S  wrist  and  bends  it 
backwards,  DOYLE  slips  his  arm  under,  and  forces  it 
back  again.] 


DOYLE 

And  don't  try  physical  force — I  warned  you  before ! ! 
[He  throws  him  off.] 

RAIKE 

Nevertheless,  my  confident  friend,  I  shall  be  leaving 
you  in  three  minutes — I'm  only  warning  you — 

DOYLE 

Three  minutes.  [He  walks  to  the  window.}  My 
friends  will  be  at  the  top  of  the  lane  and  coming 
towards  us  now — sit  down  and  wait  for  them.  [Knock 
ing  out  his  pipe.]  And  so  the  greatest  cracksman  of 
the  day  comes  to  grief  directly  there's  a  woman  in  the 
case.  That  letter  to  you — charming  though  it  is — will 
form  the  most  damning  piece  of  evidence  against  you. 
Why — Why  did  you  ever  let  a  woman  meddle  in  your 
affairs. 

RAIKE 
I  love  her. 

DOYLE 

[Contemptuously] 
"Love  her" ! 

RAIKE 

Doyle!  Do  you  know  what  you  miss  by  being  in 
human?  by  being  a  machine?  Why,  man,  when  I 
think  of  all  your  dreary  existence,  I  tell  you  that  in  the 
midst  of  all  your  greatest  success,  I  pity  you — 

DOYLE 
Oh,  indeed. 

RAIKE 
A  woman  can  be  worth  any  risk. 

DOYLE 

Even  this  ?  Will  she  love  you  any  more,  do  you  think, 
when  her  name  is  associated  with  yours,  at  the  trial — 

RAIKE 

[S prinking  up] 
Doyle — you — ! 


DOYLE 

Sit  down,  my  friend.  In  [looking  at  the  clock]  two 
minutes  from  now — you  will  be  in  the  hands  of  the 
police  and  that  letter  will  be  as  good  as  in  the  hands  of 
the  Public  Prosecutor.  [As  the  time  goes  the  two  men 
watch  each  other  more  and  more  intently.  ] 

RAIKE 

Don't  you  be  a  fool.  Listen  to  me.  You  want  to  bring 
this  girl's  name  out  into  a  crowded  court,  cross-ex 
amine  her,  torture  her,  have  her  humiliated  by  the 
humorists  of  the  cheap  press — why?  don't  you  realize 
what  it  means  to  one  in  her  position?  You've  enough 
proofs  to  convict  me  a  dozen  times,  yet  out  of  your 
hatred  for  the  whole  sex  you  choose  this  one,  in  which 
a  girl  whose  only  crime  is  that  she  stooped  low  enough 
to  pity  me  shall  be  made  to  suffer. 

DOYLE 

You'll  make  her  suffer — not  I — 
RAIKE 
[Rising] 

We  shall  see— 

DOYLE 
Sit  down — ! 

RAIKE 

[Throwing  away  his  chair] 

Be  damned  to  you — fire  your  revolver,  have  a  shot  at 
me !  I  tell  you  now,  Doyle,  you  don't  stand  an  earthly 
chance  against  me — In  half  a  minute  from  now  I  shall 
be  free  and  that  letter  will  be  mine ! 

DOYLE 

In  thirty  second  from  now,  you'll  be  in  the  hands  of  the 
police. 

RAIKE 

And  do  you  think  I  shall  ever  allow  a  couple  of  village 
policemen  to  lay  hand  on  me!  I  tell  you  in  a  few 
seconds — 


DOYLE 

In  a  very  few  seconds — [There  is  a  loud  knock  in  the 
distance.]  Aha!  my  friend,  you're  luck's  out!! 

RAIKE 

[Putting  his  back  against  the  door] 
I  think  not !  You've  got  to  pass  me  to  unlock  this  door ! 

DOYLE 

Oh,  no!  I  took  the  precaution  of  unlocking  it  then 
instead  of  locking  it — try  it  for  yourself  !  Now,  come ! 
you've  got  five  seconds  only  for  a  stroke  of  genius — 
what  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

RAIKE 

[Coolly] 

Nothing.  [Suddenly  he  throws  the  table  up  on  end, 
but  DOYLE  is  too  quick  for  him  and  it  just  misses  him. 
The  two  meet  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  DOYLE  gets 
him  by  the  wrists,  and  for  a  second  or  two  neither 
shows  any  movement,  except  the  strain  on  the  muscles. 
Then  DOYLE  slowly  begins  to  bend  RAIKE' s  arms  back 
wards.  ] 

DOYLE 

Merely  to  deceive  by  a  simplicity,  eh?  Come  in!  [An 
INSPECTOR  and  a  POLICEMAN  come  in  smartly,  and  hold 
RAIKE,  while  DOYLE  snaps  a  pair  of  handcuffs  on 
him.  ]  Who's  in  charge  ? 

THE  INSPECTOR 
I  am,  sir. 

DOYLF 

Take  him  to  the  station  and  look  sharp  after  him.  I'll 
be  along  as  soon  as  I'm  dressed.  [Quietly.]  I'm 
sorry,  my  friend,  but  I'm  afraid  you've  lost  your  bet. 

RAIKE 

My  dear  Doyle,  there's  an  old  adage,  "A  race  is  never 
over  until  it's  won." 

DOYLE 

[To   INSPECTOR] 

You'll  see  to  that?  Have  the  revolver — you  may  want 
it. 

[127] 


RAIKE 

If  you  get  any  satisfaction  out  of  making  an  innocent 
girl  suffer — well,  I  wish  you  luck  to  it !  And  whatever 
you  are  as  a  detective,  as  a  human  being  you're  a  colos 
sal  failure ! !  [He  goes  out.  Immediately  the  clock 
strikes  four.  DOYLE  smiles,  picks  up  the  overthrown 
table,  saying,  "Five  hundred  pounds,  yes,  I  hope  I  shall 
get  it."  He  picks  up  the  candle,  turns  out  the  lights, 
and  is  going,  when  there  is  a  smash  of  glass  at  the  win 
dow,  something  heavy  drops  on  the  floor.  He  picks  it 
up  quickly.  It's  a  pair  of  handcuffs  and  a  note.  With 
an  exclamation  he  puts  the  candle  on  the  table.} 

DOYLE 

[Reading  note] 

"Poor  old  Doyle!  Fancy  you — of  all  people — being 
taken  in  by — two  of  my  own  men  dressed  as  police 
men  ii" — Oh,  my  goodness!  [He  makes  for  the 
window.  A  motor  is  starting  a  little  way  off.  He  comes 
back,  reads:  "I've  got  the  letter  and  so  the  girl  is  safe. 
Good-bye,  old  fellow,  it's  a  pity  you've  sold  out  as  a 
human  being."  [The  noise  of  the  car  increases  as  it 
passes  the  house  and  then  the  motor-horn  gives  an  im 
pertinent  "toot-toot"  and  then  the  sound  gradually  dies 
away.]  Oh,  yes,  very  clever,  my  friend,  very  clever. 
You've  got  away  all  right,  haven't  you?  And  you've 
got  the  letter  too — so  you  think !  Now,  I  wonder  why 
I  allowed  your  accomplice  to  go  on  rifling  my  rooms 
like  this? — unless  it  was  that  I  got  the  original  of 
that  letter  here,  my  friend !  [He  takes  it  out  of  pocket.] 
And  when  this  leaves  my  hands,  there  an  end  of  your 
career — and  hers! — [Reading  the  note  again.  "It's  a 
pity  you've  sold  out  as  a  human  being" — All  right, 
my  friend,  we'll  leave  the  woman  out  of  it  then,  and 
we'll  start  again — just  you  and  I — square!  [He  puts 
the  edge  of  the  letter  in  the  candle  flame,  and  after  a 
second  or  two  lights  his  pipe  by  it,  and  the  curtain 
falls. 

[128] 


L'ENVOI 


L'ENVOI 

Children  of  mine,  go  forth  into  the  world, 
For  good  or  ill,  for  censure  or  for  praise, 
Till  now  my  very  own,  in  comradeship 
Rejoicing  ever  when  the  day  was  done. 

1  brought  thee  forth  at  night,  when  streets  were  still, 

Save  for  the  footsteps  of  some  traveler 

Upon  the  echoing  pavement  underneath. 

I  cradled  thee  in  love  and  sympathy: 

White  stars  thy  watchers  through  the  shining  night ; 

The  full-orbed  moon  did  bathe  thee  with  its  light ; 

Dark  clouds  oft-times  thy  sombre  coverlet ; 

The  thunder's  roll  across  the  midnight  sky 

Thy  voice  of  protest  or  thy  cry  of  pain. 

A  diverse  band  are  ye,  my  children  dear : 
Some  light  and  gay,  with  merry  laughing  eyes, 
While  others  heavy,  dark,  dispensing  hate, 
Or  plotting  'gainst  the  sacred  rights  of  man ; 
And  ye,  the  loved  of  all,  the  pure  in  heart, 
True,  loyal  ones,  with  highest  motives  blest, 
Obeying  duty's  voice,  and  country's  call. 

Go  forth  into  the  busy  world  of  men, 
Cheering  the  downcast,  making  strong  the  weak, 
Inciting  by  example  bravest  deeds, 
Inspiring  by  thy  spirit  loftiest  aims. 


As  ye  fare  forth  I  walk  not  with  thee  more, 
Another  hand  shall  gird  thee,  other  lips 
Shall  voice  thy  thoughts,  but  whether  well  or  ill, 
Ye  still  shall  be  my  children,  and  the  love 
Wherewith  I  loved  thee  in  the  early  days 
Shall  be  thine  own  forever.     Fare  thee  well. 

CHARLES  E.  ALLEN 


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